


Highlights

by eams81



Series: Tones [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Caring, Depression, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Families of Choice, Friends to Lovers, Geno to the Rescue, Graphic Description, Healing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin, Self-Harm, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2019-08-29 13:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 41,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16744897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eams81/pseuds/eams81
Summary: Sidney hated to admit it to himself, but now it was as much part of his daily routine as his Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich. The cold metal in his hand was his version of a comfort blanket.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic Description of Self Harm. This is your warning, please listen to this warning if this is a trigger for you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidney hated to admit it to himself, but now it was as much part of his daily routine as his Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich. The cold metal in his hand was his version of a comfort blanket, as he carefully held the double-sided blade between his fingers so that he didn’t cut his hand accidentally. The map of old and new scars that scattered his hips, and his upper thighs shone like stars against his pale skin. Every line was tainted with memories of losses, reminders of what he could have done better in the games they had won and moments where he let his mental health take control. He had been forced to read and listen to the words of others for years, saying he took his superstitions and rituals to the level of a crazy person. If only they knew.

 

The first time Sidney took a blade to his skin, it wasn’t really a proper blade. He had been sat in his room at his Billet Families house in Rimouski. He had dropped the phone down onto the bed, the ever-critical words of his father echoing around his head in the silent room. He loved his father, and Sidney knew that his father was just trying to offer constructive criticism. Sometimes though, that wasn’t what you needed to hear after a particularly bad game. It had been one of those times. Instead of a ‘better luck next time,’ Sidney had received a minute by minute description of everything he had done wrong and comments about needing to practice more on his slapshots.

The feelings of failure and worthlessness had built up in his chest, and Sidney never could remember when he had reached for the scissors that had been on his desk. He didn’t remember what initially made him viciously slash the blade of the scissors against his wrist. The scissors barely grazed the skin, leaving a line more reminiscent of a cat scratch than anything else. However, the burst of pain that came from the action flushed away the feelings of failure eating him inside, replacing them with a wave of relief. Tiny beads of blood bubbled at the scratch, nothing for him to worry about, and he found it oddly relaxing watching the little drops form.

That had been the first and only time Sidney had cut his wrist. The next day one of his team-mates saw the red line of the scratch and offhandedly asked how he managed it. The fear that coursed threw him as he tried to think of an excuse, quickly settling with a half truth about catching himself on a pair of scissors in his kit bag. His teammate probably didn’t even care enough to question the answer, but it had made Sidney feel unbelievably anxious.

He didn’t do it again for months after that first time. But the habit slowly grew. It started as once every couple of months, something to relieve some of the stress from hockey. It slowly became more regular especially after he was drafted in the NHL. He had gotten what he wanted, he was playing for the NHL but it didn’t feel enough. Sidney would always remember that day during his first year; he’d woken up with one thought in his mind, and all he could think about was that razor blade slicing his skin open, leaving a nice deep cut across his thigh. That was the day that Sidney admitted to himself that he was depressed, and had been for a long time. It was also the day that his little habit became less about hockey and more about the little voice in the back of his head whispering like a devil in his ear.

 

Flower knew; he’d known about it for years. Marc-Andre Fleury him shot disapproving goalie glares every time a newbie tried to question why Sidney always changed in and out of his under-armor in private instead of in the changing room. Disapproving he may be, but Flower was a true friend and was always the first to say it was just another one of Sidney’s rituals. That was often enough said. Sidney was after all so extreme in his rituals that he refused to talk to his family on game day.

Geno was different though. Geno was always different. Ever since he had managed to run away and join the Penguins, the Russian had stolen all claims to Sidney’s heart; not that he would ever know it. The feelings that Sidney held for Geno, were locked so tightly away inside; his father had always said that he should put hockey first in front of everything else, and that was what he had done for his entire life. He had been told that there was time for love and relationships when he retired, but something inside of Sidney had always wondered how his father would react if he knew that Sid spent more time staring at the guys in changing rooms than staring at any pretty woman. His father would probably scream that he was meant to be the best player in the NHL, not the first gay player in the NHL.

The way Geno was though, made Sidney want to finally tell his father to fuck off micromanaging every single element of his life. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe anything could ever happen between them, but sometimes he had to wonder if he was imagining the ways the Russian looked at him. The ways that Geno’s big hands would reach around and rest comfortably against Sidney’s hip when they were stood next to each other. How Geno could tell when Sidney was trying to hold himself back from indulging his sweet tooth when they went out for team dinners; Geno would suggest to everyone ‘Dessert,’ accompanying it with a glare if someone dared to try to say no.

 

Sidney could feel his heart beating in his chest as he let the anxious feeling inside him control the speed and pressure as he braced his blade against the exposed skin on his hip. The metal sat against the skin for a few seconds as Sidney tried desperately to find the will inside of himself that would help him fight the urge to slice the blade against his body. Like the majority of times, his depression won out, and the need to feel the pain and the relieve that self-harm brought was the only thing that he could think of. The sudden pain was like his own personal heroin, he dropped the blade back into the watch box he kept it in. The fresh wound was deeper than he wanted, and the blood was already running down from the cut. Instead of aiding in his anxiety, the deep wound added another issue to his long list of worries as he hastily tried to clean up the falling trails of blood with an antiseptic wipe. The alcohol content of the wipe made Sidney wince and clench his hand into a fist as he quickly swiped over the wound. The blood droplets were still attempting to race each other down from the cut, with fresh trails running down the skin he just cleaned away. Tearing the backing of the bandage he had placed ready to the side, Sidney stuck it over the top of the wound, grimacing as the blood quickly stained threw the pad.

The doorbell and the immediate opening of his front door were the only warning that he had spent too long locked in his bathroom. The rest of the team were coming over for a movie and games night, and the first lot had arrived. Knowing he had to move quick or he would end up with five or more hockey players trying to cram themselves into his en-suite bathroom, Sidney chucked all of his supplies and med kit into one of the drawers next to his sink. The sounds of shouting and jibes coming up the stairs left him no time to place an extra layer of bandages over the one on his hip. Casting a final look at the bright red stain that was growing threw the bandage, Sidney was grateful that he wasn’t wearing a white shirt as he let his black jumper slide back down and over the top of it.

 

It was pretty much a full house, most of the team had been able to make it; which meant Sidney’s den was filled to the brim with big hockey players who took up more room than they realized. Geno was being as affectionate as he always was, leaving Sidney to fight a wince every time Geno caught his side. Escaping into the kitchen, Sidney didn’t realize he had been followed until he had stretched up to grab a new glass from the cupboard. The stretch had caused his hoodie to ride up exposing the blood-stained bandage underneath. The bandage was now more varying shades of red than white, and was getting stared at by Geno. The damage was done, and it had been seen, but that didn’t stop Sidney from hastily pulling the bottom of his hoodie down. Like a deer caught in the headlights, Sidney couldn’t find any words to say as Geno came rushing at him. Sidney kept the hoodie in his grip, his hand hovering over the top of the wound, ready to stop him if Geno tried to look again.

“Sid what you do?!” Geno exclaimed as he stopped in front of Sidney, and just as expected he tried to gently wrestle his way underneath Sidney’s hoodie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually started as a little side thought to a different story I am working on, and then as I was writing it, it changed from a little background one shot to a potential little monster.
> 
> Not Beta read.
> 
> Title from Walking Home, by Monument Valley


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zhenya stared at the hem of Sid’s hoodie, where the memory of the blood-stained bandage clung to the front of his mind.
> 
> “Sid, what happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic depictions of self harm, please do not continue reading if this will affect you.

Zhenya stared at the hem of Sid’s hoodie, where the memory of the blood-stained bandage clung to the front of his mind. Sid had not taken kindly to the soft attempts that Zhenya had made to try to get another glimpse at his captains' side. He needed to double check that he hadn’t been imagining the blood. As he stood crowding Sid against the kitchen counter, he was mentally recapping the last few games and practice sessions, trying to remember if there was an incident in any of those where Sid was injured. When nothing automatically came to the forefront of his memory, Zhenya was left even more confused than he had been before. 

The look of utter fear that filled Sid’s face just added to the confusion. Sid stood, his arms wrapped around himself, and as Zhenya reached forwards to place a hand on Sid’s forearm, he felt his heart drop in his chest at the visible flinch that ran through Sid’s body. Pulling his hand back as if he had been burnt, Zhenya forced himself to take a small step backwards allowing some space for the cowering man. This was not a sight he ever expected to witness, and seeing Sid literally shaking in front of him left Zhenya feeling useless. 

“Sid, what happened?” His words this time were quieter, spoken in a gentler tone instead of a demanding one. He wanted to step back forwards and place a comforting hand on the Canadians shoulder; but he also knew from experience that a movement such as that, could occasionally make Sid freeze up even more. It was something Zhenya had struggled with since moving to America; touch was different back home in Russia, and it was normal there to be so open and giving with personal contact. Sergei had tried to tell him back when he first came to stay that it wasn’t necessarily something about him that was making Sid jump out of his skin with a single touch, it was just what happened with the Americans/Canadians; although Sergei had finished off by saying that Sid was also the most skittish of the bunch. 

Sid was no longer visibly shaking as much as he had been, and the slight distance between them stopped any more flinches. The long-forgotten mask was creeping back into place, as all signs of emotion faded from Sid’s expression. Watching the Sid in front of him now, took Zhenya back years to the times where Sid would sit in the locker room waiting for hockey to start again. The rest of the team had ribbed on Sid since then, calling them his robot years. The Sid in front of him was from the robot years. 

“Nothing I just caught myself the other day.” Sid was staring down at the floor as he answered, and Zhenya wished that he could just reach forwards and hold him. He knew that would not go down as well as he wanted however, and instead he kept his hands down by his side clenched into fists. 

“лжец,” Zhenya whispered into the space between them. He didn’t know why he said it, it was like some part of his brain just flashed red at Sid’s words and produced a giant flashing button with the word ‘Bullshit’ emblazoned across it. The Russian words made something flash in Sid’s eyes, and break apart the robot façade. 

“What did you say Geno?” Sid questioned, fire slowly rising in his eyes as if he was back on the ice and being subjected to the usual share of taunts. It wasn’t the way to get the truth, but it was better than the blank robot or the fearful flinches. 

Sighing, Zhenya stared at the spot where the bandage should be, “Nothing. Just tell me if need anything.” Slowly unclenching his fists, he tore his eyes away from the bottom of Sid’s hoodie. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he made to turn to leave the kitchen only to stop himself halfway. “Ever,” he added. 

The sight of that bloody bandage stained his memory as he walked back towards the loud cheerful shouts escaping from the Den. He felt wrong to fight his urges to mother hen, like his Mama would have done to him. He wanted to take care of his friend and make sure he was okay, even if it meant sticking a fresh bandage on whatever injury Sid was hiding. Dropping back into his seat, Zhenya let Kessel force a bottle of beer into his hand. He didn’t attempt to drink from it, instead watching as Sid eventually made to rejoin the room. From where he was sat, he could see Fleury watching Sid’s movements as well, and the frown that filled their goalie’s face seemed to be a mirror of his own. 

 

 

That night after he had finally managed to kick out his teammates and relocate those staying into various guestrooms, Sidney barely managed to close the door to his own bedroom before panic and fear rushed over him. The feel of Geno’s hands when they had initially tried to pull on the base of his hoodie was the most terrifying experience that Sidney had ever experienced. It was scarier than any probing interview he had been forced to sit through and a billion times worse than the anxiety filled anticipation which had been the time leading up to his draft day. Leaning his weight back onto the door, Sidney felt a flush of shame as tears fell down his cheeks. 

He had no control of them, and the tears were not just from the sadness or the emptiness that often filled his head; instead they were the biproduct of the clash of every single emotion fighting against each other. The feelings of fear fighting against the feelings of love; the dread when Geno saw the bandage, and what it felt like to be cared about when Geno said that he was there if he needed him. The feelings of shame about his habit were joining up with the thoughts of the media or his family knowing what he did. But the loudest voice in his head was the little devil that taunted him every day; it was squealing in delight at the thought of how horrid Geno’s reaction would be if he knew the truth that was hiding beneath the bandages. Would Geno still try to be comforting if he knew the truth, if he knew that the bandage was there because Sidney had taken a blade to his own body. Would he be disgusted? 

Forcing himself away from the door, Sidney hurled himself towards his bathroom, bumping into the furniture as he went. The rush to get in there left him flailing for the light switch for a few seconds before he finally found his target. He didn’t bother waiting for the light to fill the room before he was wrenching the drawers open in his cabinet. The contents spilled out, dropping onto the floor with clatters which if it had been any other time, he would have been careful about. Right now, the only thing he needed was his box. When his fingers closed over the unimposing box, Sidney exhaled his shaking breath. Setting the box down onto his bathroom counter, Sidney yanked his hoodie and his undershirt over his head, abandoning them where they fell on the tiled floor. Tugging his sweatpants down, he stood exposed down to his underwear, his sole attention on the small metal rectangle which was staring up at him like it was an oasis in the middle of a desert. 

He forgoed the usual effort he went into before he usually self-harmed. Instead of prepping all of his items out in front of him; the antiseptic wipes, the bandages, the wound pads, the tape, Sidney simply went for his razor-blade, leaving all the medical supplies in the drawer. He didn’t hold the blade against his leg like he normally did either; instead he dove straight in, slashing the metal across his upper thigh. His madness continued, and with each cut Sidney felt like he was once more grasping at the shattering corners of his life, feeling like he was the one whom was once more in control. 

Within minutes, the small square of thigh he was working over was a mess of blood and red lines. As he tore through the skin once more, Sidney finally allowed the razorblade to drop from his bloody hands. The metal was dotted with blood from where it had glided over skin which had little trickles already running down the skin. Blood was running down past his knee, dripping onto the floor and pooling small cent size puddles underneath his feet. 

Collecting his washcloth from the corner of the sink, Sidney didn’t bother cleaning the actual wound areas, and instead quickly wiped over the trails of blood that were working their ways down his leg. He grabbed a bandage from the ever-open box, tearing off the adhesive backing he pressed it against his thigh not bothering to try to clean up the areas where the blood had already started to congeal. Everything could be dealt with in the morning. Tonight, he needed to feel like he was in control, and he needed the pain and the act to center himself and to clear some of the feelings in his mind. 

Sidney left his bathroom as it was, not bothering to collect a fresh set of sweatpants to sleep in. Instead he fell onto his bed, pulling the covers up around him as he curled himself into a tight ball. Every shift pulled at the torn skin hidden beneath the bandages that were slowly taking over his side, and every little flash of pain acted like a reminder to Sidney as he drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Лжец - liar
> 
> So I have done a very subtle way of showing which character we're 'reading' through with the name choices. So when we're seeing through Geno, he gets referred to as Zhenya, and he refers to Sid as Sid.   
> When we're looking through Sid, he gets referred to as Sidney, and he refers to Geno as Geno. 
> 
> So not going to lie, genuinely didn't realize I was going to be writing this chapter this evening. But after a shit day at work, I decided to take some of my poor anger and frustrations out on my favorite little penguin. 
> 
> Also before I get anyone making a comment about he got caught with a bandage on, and freaked out so he hurt himself again. Yes, because it is about the control and the feelings of being momentarily at peace with the shitstorm occurring in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

The pain was still present in the morning, and so was the mess that he had left in the bathroom the previous night. Sidney wished he could remain in his little ball of blankets and turbulent emotion, but he had a third of his team plausibly already reaping havoc on his house. The alarm on his phone hadn’t yet gone off, allowing Sidney the knowledge that it was very likely that he was probably one of the first to wake. Pushing the covers away, he forced himself to get up and leave his hiding spot; if it had been any other day, where there were no commitments and he didn’t have a full house, Sidney would have quite happily stayed in his little den of misery. Whilst there were no official practices for the day, Sidney still had to maintain his façade of being a normal, happy person, at least until his house was empty once more. 

Untangled from his bedding, the bandages on his hip and thigh were a delightfully grim shade of dirty maroon. Sidney was reluctant to pull the bandages back to see the mess underneath. Instead he would wait till he showered before he went through his wound aftercare steps. There was no point in changing the wound dressing only to get it immediately wet. Sidney didn’t particularly want to start the morning by spending longer than necessary looking at the mountain of overlapping scar tissue that was his skin. He wanted to try to have a good morning, even if the try was the emphasized word. 

Needing to complete the first chore of the day, Sidney slowly walked into the bathroom. The injuries on his thigh, and on his hip pulled even more than they had the day before. Every slight movement offered Sidney a sub-par twinge of pain. The pain was noticeable, and had it been anyone else feeling it, it would have been considered marginally bad. For him though, it was there and he could feel it, but it was not enough to be a substantial relief. If anything pushed him today, the pain from his prior injuries would be of no assistance to the need to hurt himself. 

Crouching down, Sidney gathered up his clothing from the night before, quickly throwing it into his laundry basket before turning back to the dried blood staining the floor and the counter top. Carefully he swiped both clean with a cloth, determined to remove every drop of evidence to his weakness. The contents of the drawers that fell out were put back into their correct places and slowly Sidney was able to let out a sigh of content. His secrets were back to being hid in his bathroom drawers, and that was just how he needed it. 

The beautiful heat of his shower, soothed at the constant knots in his shoulders and simultaneously stung at the skin beneath his bandages. He absent-mindedly picked at the scabs of cuts from a few days prior. Just part of his normal daily routine, game day or not. The heat from the shower filled the bathroom with steam, so by the time Sidney finally managed to pull himself away from the hot spray, the large mirror hanging over the counter top was misted with condensation. Dropping down onto the closed toilet seat, Sidney shuffled his towel to the side, so that his right leg was exposed. The act of pulling off the bandages from the night before was a slow process; with every pull the bandage seemed to want to multi-task and act as a waxing strip as it clung to hairs and older scabs. 

The skin revealed under the bandages were as expected, most of the cuts had already started to try and close again forming the initial healing stages. The cuts which had been deeper were pink and raw, the deep groves that the blade had left always looked so disappointing the next day. Sidney always felt that after they had stopped bleeding, they never were as deep as he had initially thought. It did nothing to appease the voice when he was at his worst. 

Swabbing with the antiseptic wipe, Sidney bit his lip as he forced the end of the wipe into the cut crevices. The alcohol burnt worse than fire, and he could only handle a few moments before he deemed it clean enough and reached for the fresh covering. Clean and once more covered, Sidney left his towel where it was draped over the toilet lid and walked back into his bedroom naked apart from his bandages. 

His room was dark, the sunlight from outside only able to creep in through the edges of his blinds. He didn’t want to turn on the overhead light, so instead he allowed his eyes to adjust from the bright light of his bathroom back to the dull grey shadows of his bedroom. Sidney’s plan for the day contained coffee, breakfast, whatever errands were desperately required followed by some time skating laps around the rink. Just because there was no practice didn’t mean Sidney wasn’t going to spend at least part of his day in his skates or in the arena’s gym. It was back to standard practice and optional skate sessions tomorrow, and with a game against the Capitals coming up in a matter of days, Sidney wanted to feel prepared. He also knew that if he spent as much time as possible on the ice, it would mean that he was more likely to miss the predicted phone call from his father offering advice or commentary that he didn’t want. 

Shuffling into a pair of workout pants that Sidney considered acceptable enough to go out the house in; which translated into there were no holes, and the seam at the back wasn’t being held together by the last thread. Tugging a t-shirt over his head, Sidney left his room, bracing himself for the task of feeding a small squad of teammates. He briefly wondered if he had enough food in the house to actually feed everyone. He wasn’t willing to give up his secret stash of sugary cereals though, even if there wasn’t enough breakfast. 

The one sight he hadn’t expected as he walked into his kitchen was a Russian bear, and a handful of empty Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup wrappers. Sidney didn’t know which part he should address first, the fact Geno was in his kitchen despite the fact that he had left the night before, or that he had found his candy stash. 

“You need more,” Geno smirked as he popped another cup into his mouth. The smile only grew wider as Sidney tried to throw a glare at the man. The glare was only half-hearted as he burst into a round of giggles. 

“Now you’ve eaten my candy, you can help make breakfast,” Sidney grinned. This is what he didn’t realize he needed, after their encounter the night before just returning back to their normal banter. He knew that Geno wouldn’t forget about it, but it was nice for it to be pushed off to the side for the moment. It brought a sense of peace that Sidney always tried to cling to when he felt it. 

Between them they managed to scramble together a large pan of scrambled eggs, which Geno declared was his specialty. Judging from the number of times they had to pick remnants of shell out of the mix, Sidney didn’t quite trust Geno’s comment. Sidney reluctantly pulled the pack of bacon out of his freezer at Geno’s assistance and the smell of the it cooking was what the rest of the penguins needed to get up. The surprised and confused faces of his teammates as they walked into the kitchen to see Geno stood there wielding a spatula, was probably the mirror image of Sidney’s face when he had first seen him there. 

 

Zhenya regretted leaving as soon as he walked out of Sid’s front door, but he couldn’t think of a reason as to why he needed to stay over. Unlike Sheary and Murray, he hadn’t been drunk, and Sid knew him too well so he couldn’t even pretend to be. When that door had closed behind him, leaving Zhenya exposed to the cold breeze that was flowing through the Sewickley Suburbs, he had wished he had forgotten something so he could walk back inside. 

With only one beer in his system, it would have been perfectly acceptable for Zhenya to make the short drive back towards his own house a few streets away. But instead the new knowledge that Sid was hiding something from him left him too distracted to even consider getting behind the wheel. Hunching his shoulders in his coat, Zhenya left his car parked on the driveway and instead slowly began to walk back towards his own home. 

Thoughts of what could be hiding beneath that blood-soaked bandage was the only thing that Zhenya could think about on the walk. The imaginings of how Sid could have possibly got injured just grew more and more dramatic with every scenario that he thought up. The thoughts of his friend continued to haunt him long after he had reached his house, and fell naked onto his bed. Sleep that night had been ‘дерьмо,’ and Zhenya felt as if he barely got more than five minutes sleep before he was fitfully waking up once more. It was barely six in the morning when Zhenya decided that he had given up with the pretense. 

If anyone questioned why he was walking back to Sid’s house, Zhenya was already preparing himself to lie and say that he hadn’t been wanting to drive after drinking. Hopefully no one would call him out on his bullshit, especially when most of his team had at one stage or another seen him sucking back a vodka shot or two and still happily able to drive back. Any more than two and he wouldn’t risk it. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of Sid’s disappointed looks. 

It was only when Zhenya reached Sid’s front door, did he realize that he had no way to get back into the house. There was no reason for him to knock however, as soon as he raised his fist, the door swung open and he was nearly knocked over by a rushing Chris Kunitz. Kuni did give him a double glance, but didn’t move to question why Zhenya was on Sidney Crosby’s doorstep at seven in the morning. Instead he merely stepped around Zhenya, commenting about how Maureen was going to kill him if he didn’t make it home before the school run. 

Letting himself into the house, Zhenya wasn’t surprised that no one else seemed to be around. He could only assume most of them were still sleeping off what they had drunk in the guest rooms. Wondering into the kitchen, he aimlessly started to open up cupboards and drawers. A little cry of glee escaped him when he stumbled upon the collection of cereal boxes hidden underneath the sink. Pulling out a box of Cinnamon Toast, Zhenya was half tempted to grab a bowl and fix himself some very unhealthy breakfast; that was until he saw the cardboard box hiding behind the cereals. After pulling out a few more boxes of cereal, Zhenya managed to pull out the small wholesale box of chocolate. His laughter filled the kitchen, of course Sid would keep a stash of his favorite candy hidden somewhere no one would think to look. Knowing his captain, he probably placed it out the way so that Sid would be less likely to eat them often. The box was looking distastefully empty, with only three packets remaining. Removing all three packets of Reese’s, Zhenya went to the added effort of placing the now empty chocolate box and the cereal packets back where they had belonged. 

Resting back against the counter top, Zhenya placed the chocolates down next to him as he waited for someone to wake up and join him. 

Дерьмо - shit/crap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter lets play some hockey.
> 
> So after much deliberation, the story is going to start around the 2015/2016 season as that was what worked with my little time line of events. That timeline is not set in stone and will inevitably wonder off somewhere far far away from canon events. 
> 
> I hope people are enjoying reading this, and please let me know what you think. Good and bad


	4. Chapter 4

Sidney racked his brain as he sat on the Penguins bench watching his team being demolished in front of his eyes. What did he do wrong, and did he mistime one of his routines that day. By the end of the first they were down and he could practically see the fresh chirps that were beginning to form in Ovechkin’s mind. Geno’s beautiful shot near the end of the first was the only thing that was currently keeping the optimism running. The sixth sense in the back of Sidney’s mind could already tell that this was going to be a loss against their tally, and it wasn’t the debut he wanted to give to the new head coach. Mike Sullivan’s words in the locker room during the first interval rang on repeat in Sidney’s mind as he stepped back onto the ice for the second period. 

The noise of the crowd, the cheers for the penguins and the occasional boo for the Capitals, blurred together into nothingness. Comments and insults from other players were always audible however; as Sidney breezed over to center ice to prepare for the first face off of the second. 

“Hey Sid, you actually going to score this time.” Ovechkin laughed as they both squared up to squabble over the puck. Sidney let the words slide over the top of his head, it wasn’t the best he’d heard and it definitely wasn’t the best that Ovechkin had come up with either. Winning the face off, Sidney skated off and tapped the puck to Kessel, hoping that they could make a play. As the time in the second period slipped away, Sidney was feeling the frustration building inside of him. They were still unable to make any leeway to level the boards, and thankfully Fleury was keeping the capitals out of the net. 

“No speedo tonight Crosby? You haven’t dived yet.” 

“You suck!” 

By the second interval, Sidney could see the visible anger and strain in the rest of the Penguins faces. Fleury had resigned himself into his stall, tapping his foot constantly as Mike Sullivan went through plays and strategies. Geno was twitchy as well, even though he had been the only one who had been able to get the puck behind Holtby; Geno was walking back and forth across the locker room, skates still tied to his feet. If it was any other time, the sight might have been comical, but no one was in the mood to laugh at that moment. 

The third period just cemented for Sidney that tonight was not going to end in the Penguins favor. During the shift after the Capitals lit it up for the third time that night, Sidney found himself pushed into the boards by Ovechkin. As they grappled for the puck, the Russian player laughed at the rage in Sidney’s eyes, “Don’t worry I get Zhenya to buy you dinner tonight.” 

Kicking Ovechkin’s stick away with the tip of his skate blade, Sidney snapped back in response, “Why would Geno buy me dinner?” 

“Because I like it when guys buy me dinner after I get fucked over.” Ovechkin laughed as he stripped Sidney of the puck, skating away down the boards as Sidney raced after him. 

And fucked he got, the buzzer rang and it was officially 4-1. It was a shit loss, there were 45 shots on goals, and only once did that puck cross the line. Sidney had his head reeling with replays of the game, as he plodded along the corridor back into the locker room. The feeling of the room merely echoed the way Sidney felt inside. In his mind he was already imagining the feel of the blade in his hand. He wanted to try to get rid of the feeling of devastation, and the blade was his answer to that. 

Dropping down into his stall, Sidney dropped his professional façade into place as the reporters were allowed entry into the dressing room. As usual, the swarm gathered around his stall and the sea of microphones, and recording devices were shoved into his face. The standard questions got asked; what did you think you could do better, how do you feel about losing, what's your opinion on Mike Sullivan’s tactics. The answers Sidney provided were the same kind of answers he always gave. He had been media trained since he was a child, and he knew that opinions, especially his own, were a dangerous thing to give to a reporter. The reporters would take his words, spin them and then there would suddenly be a five-thousand-word essay on why Sidney Crosby didn’t like something and how it would affect the team. 

By the time the reporters were finally shuffled out of the room, Sidney could feel his media persona dropping. He wanted to go home, and after taking care of business drop into bed. Tomorrow evening the team were expected to fly out to Boston for a back to back match against the Bruins. Leaving his used jersey on the hanger, Sidney went about the process of removing the rest of his equipment until he was stood in only his under armor. He was sore, and he hoped no one had stolen his favorite bike in the gym. Squeezing his feet into a pair of trainers, Sidney slowly left the locker room; there were players who had already been able to finish their cool down work out, and were once more getting back into their suits ready to leave the arena. Sidney hoped that by the time he had done his time on the bike, he would be one of the last ones remaining. The added bonus to being one of the last to leave was that the communal showers were practically empty, and the few single cubicles that the locker room had would most certainly be free. 

 

Sidney pushed at the pedals on the bike for a good twenty minutes before a fully dressed Fleury came to lean against the front of his machine. “You know you’re only meant to be cooling off, not doing a full work-out on that thing,” Marc-Andre laughed at the frown that Sidney knew filled his face. 

“I’m nearly done,” Sidney mumbled in retort, although he honestly wished he could spend longer losing himself in the rhythm. He hadn’t even realized how much time had slipped away from him, he had been too invested in thinking back on the plays from the game. 

Fleury nodded at Sidney’s words, the little eye roll confirming that he hadn’t believed Sidney’s words at all. “Hurry up and go shower and get dressed. Vee is saying that dinner will be ready in less than an hour.” 

Sidney reluctantly stopped his pedaling, and climbed off of the bike. He grimaced at the slight ache in his legs, a sure sign that he would have been better sticking to ten minutes on the bike and at a much slower speed. “If Veronique is waiting, you should head off Flower.” Sidney didn’t bother to hide the small sigh and the little smile as Fleury followed after him as he walked back into the locker room. The room was empty, leaving Sidney the opportunity to undress in the room rather than a closed cubicle. 

“Don’t be an idiot, the spare room is already set up for you.” Fleury said nonchalantly as he began to play on his phone. Sidney knew better than to argue, this was just one of the ways that Fleury often showed how amazing a friend he was. Fleury knew his secret, and he would take it upon himself to help Sidney on nights where he felt that he might need it. The reason Fleury already knew his secret was why Sidney pulled his shirt off in the large open room. The action made Fleury look up from his phone, eyes quickly scanning down what was visible of Sidney’s body, taking into account any new scars, and any new bandages. 

“Thank you.” Sidney smiled softly, as he quickly gathered his wash stuff and made his way into the shower. Fleury’s voice followed after him in a booming shout. 

“Don’t thank me! If we’re late Vee will kill us both!” 

 

Leaving his car in the back-lot of the arena, Sidney allowed himself to be shepherded into Fleury’s car, and then into his house. Veronique kind voice called down to them as soon as they stepped inside, followed by an excited two-year-old shouting, “Daddy! Uncle Sidbee!” Within moments, Sidney found himself with his arms full. The excited chatter Estelle was sprouting worked as a pain-relief to the dark and depressing thoughts in his head. Little arms wrapped around his neck as he received a face full of long hair and a tight hug from the little girl. “Don’t worry Uncle Sidbee, Daddy's fault you lose. Blame Daddy.” 

Sidney couldn’t fight the bubble of laughter that filled his chest, as Veronique piped in at Fleury, “This is what happens when you put her down for a nap at the same time your is.” The comments were all light hearted, and it made Sidney’s heart fill at the love his friends had for each other. Flower laughed at his wife's jibes, pulling her closer to press a kiss against her lips, before crouching down to place another kiss against her stomach; the bump wasn’t even showing yet, but Sidney knew it was going to be there soon. Veronique playfully swatted at her husband's head, “Dinner is nearly ready for you two idiots, and it is way way past someone's bedtime.” Sidney handed over the reluctant two-year-old; Estelle didn’t want to miss out and the pout that was forming was too adorable. 

“If you’re a good and go to bed now mon chou, you can stay in the same room as Uncle Sidney.” Fleury smiled at his daughter as he gently brushed his fingers through her hair. The way the pout magically disappeared from her face said that the bribery worked as Estelle allowed herself to be transferred back into her mother's arms. 

As Veronique and Estelle disappeared up the stairs, Sidney turned to his best friend and shook his head with a large smile, “You bastard, I know why you did that.” 

Flower shrugged his smile matching Sidney’s, “I don’t know what you're on about, I was just stopping my two-year-old having a tantrum.” The goalie went towards the kitchen, offering up another comment as he walked, “And you wouldn’t hurt yourself when she’s in the same room. Two birds, one puck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What annoys me more about this chapter was that I knew exactly how I wanted it to be written, but getting the words to flow was another matter. 
> 
> Opinions as always are welcome, and I have now created an aesthetic, (yes I am one of those people I am sorry), for the fic. It is on my tumblr (eams81.tumblr.com) and on the first chapter of the fic. Pleas check it out, both the aesthetic and my tumblr.


	5. Chapter 5

Zhenya groaned as he rolled out of his bed, the winter sunlight that was creeping in through the small gap in his curtains saved him from looking at the time on his phone. He already knew that it was inevitably past nine. Adjusting the gold chain on his neck, Zhenya tinkered with one of the gold charms as his thoughts wondered back to the disaster of a game the night before. Losing a game always left him feeling slightly down, but losing against the Caps and Alexander Ovechkin, just made it that little bit worse. Especially when he returned home from the rink that night to find a gift-wrapped bottle of vodka sitting in his mailbox. The bottle had come complete with a tag saying it was from Ovechkin, and was so far from being a peace offering; it was more like a long-suffering joke from a bully. Zhenya was never going to say no to a good bottle though, even if it was from Ovechkin. 

The bottle had helped him temporarily ignore the replays in his mind of the game. But now the morning after, with the vodka fading out his system, he was left with nothing. Not even a hangover remained to distract him. Zhenya couldn’t bring himself to face sitting on his own in his own pit of misery until the team's flight that evening. 

Grabbing at a pair of jeans that at some point had been abandoned on the floor, Zhenya grabbed at his phone on the nightstand. He had been correct in his assumption that it was past nine in the morning; scrolling through his list of contacts, he eventually reached the ‘S’ section. Tapping on Sid’s number, he held the phone to his ear as he struggled into his jeans. The phone call rang straight to voicemail, causing Zhenya to frown in confusion. Lowering his phone, he checked that he actually had signal before trying again. Once more the call rang to voicemail. Growling, Zhenya let the phone drop back down onto his bed, and grabbed a t-shirt off of the floor which he hoped was clean. 

“Lazy Sid, sleeping in.” Zhenya mumbled to himself as he made his way out of his front door, his car keys jingled in his hand. He wanted to rant about hockey and how they could play better tomorrow. If Sid was any other player, or was even vaguely normal he could’ve grabbed him on the plane journey later. But Sid was as far from normal as he could be, and god help the person who would suggest that Sid sit with anyone who wasn’t Flower on the plane. Besides Zhenya liked the occasional times in which he and Sid would hang out the morning after a loss, eating disgustingly healthy breakfasts whilst other customers all had heart stopping greasy food. The café which they frequented served the best waffles; they were a real treat food, which only got ordered when both of them deemed them necessary. After the game, Zhenya wondered if waffles could be justified. 

 

It barely took him more than a few minutes to drive to Sid’s house from his own and that was with a little bit of school run traffic. Parking up, it was only when he got out of his car that Zhenya realized Sid’s car wasn’t in its usual spot. The frown on his face only deepened further at the latest addition to the case of the Missing Sid. Maybe he had put the car away in the garage already, ready for the away trip; chancing it, Zhenya walked up to the front door and waited after pressing the doorbell. After a minute of staring at the dark wood, he pressed the bell again, holding it in for longer this time so that the noise would ring through the house and rise the sleeping superstar if he was still asleep. Once more, Zhenya was rewarded with nothing. 

As much as Sid was focused on hockey and improvement, Zhenya knew that he wouldn’t risk being at the rink this early. The practice for today was scheduled before the flight that evening, so once everyone had changed, they would be heading to the airport. There had been too many times in the past where the coaching staff had to go to extreme measures when Sid got too focused and spent more time that he should at the rink; even Sid knew when he’d gone too far when they had to hide all of his skates and force him to go home and miss practice sessions. There was the possibility that Sid might be around at the Lemieux family house, but as far as he could recall, Zhenya hadn’t seen Sid’s car there when he drove past there. 

Getting back into his car, Zhenya made a point of double checking by driving back the way he came, taking him directly past Mario Lemieux’s house. As he passed, he slowed down to a snail speed and craned his head to try and see if he could have possibly missed Sid’s car. The beep of a horn behind him, broke his concentration as his eyes ran back and forth over the drive; Sid’s car definitely wasn’t there, and no matter how many times he checked Zhenya doubted it was suddenly going to appear and put his mind at ease. The next beep of the horn was what made Zhenya speed up and drive away from the house, his head reeling with all the places Sid could be. The only problem was, the only places that Sid would have actually been, showed no signs of him. 

 

It was almost like Flower was expecting him, when the door swung open just as Zhenya raised his hand to knock. 

“You seen Sid?” Zhenya offered in greeting, the worry that had been building since the moment that he had seen Sid’s car was missing, had grown exponentially every time he had checked a place. 

Flower couldn’t hold back the laugh, and behind the goalie, Zhenya watched Veronique roll her eyes at the pair of them as she walked away from the door and back into the living room. “So, this is why I got a weird text from Tanger ten minutes ago.” Stepping out of the way of the door, Flower allowed Zhenya to step into the house. The house was decked out to high heavens with Christmas decorations, and peeking into the living room, Zhenya could see that the festive décor didn’t stop in the hallway. No Sid in sight though. 

“I been to Tanger and Kuni. They say not see him. You next on list.” Zhenya stated, as he peered through the next open doorway as if hoping Sid would burst on out and laugh at the unknown game of hide and seek that he was in. Zhenya didn’t know where he was meant to check next. If Sid wasn’t with one of the French-Canadians, he could be anywhere. 

“I am offended that I come after both Tanger and Kuni!” Flower bitched, copying his wife's eye roll as he watched Zhenya peek his head into the dining room. Flower waited and watched as Zhenya opened a closed door to look inside, smirking at the little growl when he realized that he had opened the door to a coat closet. “He won’t be in there. Come on follow me you moron.” 

“He here?” Zhenya sighed in relief, no longer feeling like he had a tonne of bricks resting on his chest. Flower offered him no response as he was led up the stairs. Pushing open one of the doors, Flower ushered Zhenya to move forwards so that he could see through the doorway. The sight that greeted him melted away any of the worries that still remained. Sid was curled up underneath a duvet with a small mountain of plush toys surrounding him. The soft snuffles coming from the bed told the two people in the doorway that he was still fast asleep 

Little hands pushed at his legs, and Zhenya looked down to see the long brunette curls of the little girl who wanted to look into the room. “Is Uncle Sidbee awake yet daddy?” 

“I think he has slept long enough mon chou,” Flower smirked devilishly as his daughter launched herself back into the room, pulling herself up on to the bed and sitting down on top of Sid’s back. Zhenya watched with a soft ache as little fingers poked Sid in the cheek repeatedly until they were all met with a grouchy mumbling of words which were probably not fit for little ears. 

“Estelle will make sure that he gets up, I think me and you need to go have a chat quick.” Zhenya didn’t like the Cheshire cat smile that filled Flowers face. He knew that smile, and he also knew that it never meant anything good when it appeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a lovely holiday season, and if you don't celebrate I hope you had a good day regardless.
> 
> I'm going to be honest with you guys here, I genuinely do not know how I am writing Sid and Geno's feelings. I don't know if they have feelings for each other at this moment, or if Geno is suddenly starting to feel the way he is beginning to because of the initial curiosity he had when it came to the bandage. 
> 
> I did say in the first chapter that Sid does class himself as gay and does have some form of feelings towards Geno before any of this begins. But it will be interesting to see how this also develops.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Melomedio for Beta reading this chapter, she is an amazing help!

Sidney woke to a two-year-old poking his cheek with little fingers, and a giant cheeky grin filling her face. Whilst it was not the best way to wake up, Sidney couldn’t deny that seeing his beautiful god-daughter first thing made the morning all the better, even if she was being ungodly hyperactive and upon seeing his eyes open had started to jump up and down in the empty space on the bed next to him. Rolling over, so that his face was hidden in the comfort of the pillow, Sidney pretended to fall back asleep, fighting to contain his laughter at the high-pitched screech of “No Sleep Uncle Sidbee!” Estelle began shaking at his shoulders, trying to ‘wake’ the sleeping man. Flipping over quickly, Sidney surprised the two-year-old, and with a cheesy smile that matched hers, he began to tickle at her sides. Squeals and squeaks of laughter came from them both, and the room filled with giggles and shrieks. 

“Should we go make get your daddy to make us some crepes, mon chou?” Sidney suggested once their little tickle attack had reached its end, running a hand through Estelle’s soft brown hair. 

“With chocolate and strawberries!” Estelle lisped as she clapped her hands together in excitement. 

“We’ll have to go see,” Sidney smiled. Oh, Flower was going to be so thrilled dealing with his child hyped on sugar, but that was just part of why Sidney loved being a godparent. He didn’t have to deal with the aftermath of sugar highs. 

 

Leaving the comfortable confines of the bed, Sidney enlisted Estelle’s help to remake the bed, and put all the throw pillows back into place. If it was his own house, he would have probably left the bed unmade until later, but Sidney couldn’t imagine doing that when it was someone else's house. And with one last throw pillow thrown at his head by Estelle, Sidney picked her up, and headed down down to the kitchen not bothering to change out of the old flannel pyjama pants and Rimouski shirt that had at some point been left at the Flowers house. 

He had been having these little weird sleepovers at Flowers house pretty much since Flower had found out about his secret. Sidney would never forget that moment; it was always going to be a memory scarred across his mind, much like the scars emblazoned on his thigh. 

He had been nineteen, in his second year with the Penguins, and for the second year in a row he was living with the Lemieuxs. Flower had come over on one of the team's rest days, in the hope of of dragging Sidney out with the rest of the French-Canadian crew. Mario had just let Flower straight in, and Flower had known where to go, knowing from his own time living in that house. Sidney hadn’t even been aware that there was anyone in his small in-law apartment until Flower had come bursting through the half-open bathroom door like a ball of energy. Sidney had dropped his blade on the floor in shock, and Flower just stood there and watched as the blade fell onto the floor, his eyes then rising back up, following the trails of blood up to the source. The cuts hadn’t been deep, and looking down now, Sidney would never be able to pick out the scars in the crowd on his hip; but even with shallow cuts, blood will flow down with gravity. 

Flower didn’t say anything, and he didn’t even ask questions. He just pushed Sidney so that he was sat down on the closed toilet seat, and started to clean up his side, and his leg where the blood had dripped. He had allowed the superstar teen to sob on his shoulder, and he had listened to all of Sidney’s half-stuttered words through the tears. He didn’t shout. He just fetched a clean set of boxers not stained with blood, and the softest pyjamas he could find in Sidney’s drawers. Sidney still remembered the tears flowing down his face, and the feelings of shame, fear, self-hatred and the overwhelming horrid mixture of every dark thought in his mind. Flower showed that night how amazing a person he was; he wiped Sidney’s tears away as he catalogued all the visible scars on Sidney’s body. When the others began to get impatient, ringing phones to see why Flower hadn’t dragged Sidney over to their normal dive bar yet, he made up an excuse that Sidney was forcing him to watch game footage. The fake exasperation in Flower’s voice when he made that phone call, and the over-exaggeration about how Sidney had basically tied him down and was making him sit and go through the footage second by second, had made Sidney laugh through his bubble of tears. After Flower hung up the phone, he simply shepherded Sidney into bed, collected a pair of pyjamas for himself and then stayed the night. He didn’t say anything, and let Sidney tell him everything in his own time. 

Since then, Flower had made a point of figuring out when Sidney was showing signs of falling too low. On days where he thought Sidney was going to be a real risk to himself with his habit, he would try to intervene in his own way. Before Estelle was born, he'd simply drag Sidney over to stay with him and Veronique. He'd put Sidney in the guest room and, Flower would sit against the headboard with him, their legs under the duvet and they would chat and listen to each other. Sidney was not afraid to admit that a lot of those times had probably saved him from doing something stupid, like cutting deeper than he normally did because he’d let his emotions take control. Sometimes, Flower would just lie down, and pull Sidney into a hug. Veronique loved to make fun of those encounters if she saw them the morning after, making jokes which lightened the entire room. Veronique knew about his habit as well, Flower had made that his one rule. He would keep the secret from the team, but he was never going to keep secrets from her. She was just like Flower, and if Sidney was on injury rest and the team were on an away stint, she always made it part of her day to come and visit Sidney. 

Flower had initially tried to help Sidney get help and stop. But after years of arguments, he stopped being as direct with his attempts. He still wanted to help Sidney get to a better place, and Flower would still occasionally bring up a new self-help advice that he stumbled across. Sidney appreciated everything Flower did for him, and he could never quite find the words or actions to show just how much he valued and appreciated everything Veronique and Flower had done for him over the years. They were two of his closest friends and he loved them both deeply. They were amazing people, and looking down at the little girl in his arms, Sidney knew that Estelle was going to be an amazing person just like her parents. 

 

Walking into the kitchen, Sidney had to school his face to hide his surprise at seeing Geno sat at the table nursing a cup of tea, watching the remnants of the jam float around the cup. Beside him, sat Flower with a devious smile filling his face. Before he could even greet the pair, Estelle claimed the attention of the room. “Daddy can we have crepes please,” she begged, leaning forwards out of Sidney’s arms. Placing her on the ground, Sidney bit his cheek to repress the laugh as she instantly ran over to Flower, clutching at his knee and shining big puppy dog eyes up at him. 

The devious smile stayed in place as Flower shifted his attention from Geno, to his daughter and then to Sidney as he nodded at his daughter's request. “Of course we can mon chou,” Flower answered in the soft sweet voice that an adult reserves for speaking to children, his voice switching back to normal as he shot the smile at Sidney, “You are a dead man.” 

Sidney’s laugh at Flower’s words seemed to jolt Geno from his interest in his tea cup. “Sid-” Geno breathed out quietly. 

“Hey Geno, what you doing here this morning?” Sidney asked politely, as he pulled up the chair across from him. He allowed himself the momentary pleasure of looking Geno up and down, taking in the tight fit of his T-shirt and how it accentuated everything about the Russian. The glance barely lasted a second before Sidney firmly put himself back under control, reminding himself that those feelings would not be reciprocated and he needed to put them back in the cage where they were contained. 

“Was looking for you,” Geno answered, looking down into the teacup for a moment before bringing his eyes back to meet Sidney’s. If that wasn’t a way for his feelings to thump in response, Sidney didn’t know what was. 

“Why were you looking for me, is everything okay?” Sidney questioned, gratefully accepting the coffee, sweetener and creamer deposited in front of him by Flower as Flower busied himself making food all whilst juggling a toddler on his hip. 

Geno shrugged, watching with a raised brow at the amount of creamer and sweetener that Sidney was throwing into the coffee. “I wanted to see if you wanted to go get breakfast.” 

Sidney jolted up from the attention he had been giving his coffee, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Well I bet you didn’t expect to get the Flower special for breakfast.” 

Geno joined in the smile, turning slightly in his chair to make Flower rejoin the conversation, “How come you don’t offer to make crepes for me. Why Sid special?” 

“So what poison would you like me to put on the side for both of you arseholes?” Flower hit back in response. Sidney couldn’t control himself as Estelle brought down the wooden spoon, she was clutching onto Flowers head. The sound of the hit and the response from both father and daughter broke the seal on his laugh, and Sidney swore he was crying from laughter. 

“Fuck!” 

Estelle hit the spoon against her daddies head again in response, “Mummy says not nice to say bad words!”


	7. Chapter 7

Everything hurt, even his bones ached as Sidney hobbled into his hotel room in Boston. Over the last few days, he felt as if everything was just getting worse and worse. Flower had been put on injury rest with concussion symptoms, and Sidney had felt like a horrid friend when he found out. He had stayed the night, and spent most of the morning with Flower after they had played the Washington Capitals, and Sidney hadn’t noticed anything. With his track history, Sidney felt like he should have noticed something. 

The team were on the third loss in a row, and the three-zero score of the night was the cherry on top of his mood. His mood hadn’t improved when Sidney had come back to his stall in the away locker room after the final bell, to find an unwanted text message from his father. The message had been sent during the first period, but Sidney made a point to never look at his phone during a game; any message from his father could risk throwing him out of his mindset. 

‘If you’re going to take stupid penalties at least do it discreetly so you don’t get called out on them.’ 

The message was exactly why Sidney didn’t have his phone turned on during game time. If he had read that during a game, the rage that boiled up inside of him would have probably led him to taking even more stupid penalties. Twenty-nine shifts on ice, and only a penalty for tripping to show for it. The only bonus was, that the player he tripped had been Marchand. Flower would be so proud of him for looking at the positive side of things. That was the only positive that Sidney could think of though; everything else just felt like a pile of negativity, constantly being thrown on top of the mountain that was already there. 

Sidney had forced himself to sit through the team dinner down in the hotel restaurant, even though all he wanted to do was hide away and order room service. The teams overwhelming need for comradery was why Sidney allowed himself to be led to his seat. Geno had taken the seat opposite him, and Sidney had simply listened to Geno encouraging their newest player Conor Sheary. It was never a nice feeling when your first game in the NHL doesn’t go like you wanted; you can spend years imagining that first game, and imagining what it would be like to score or simply win that game. When it doesn’t work out like that, it sucks. Sidney had been there, he had got an assist in his debut game, but that had meant nothing when they got buried five-one. He remembered Mario’s words of encouragement after that first game, and Sidney was grateful that Geno was there to give Sheary that. 

Peeling off his suit jacket, Sidney made sure that his suit was placed on a hanger so that it didn’t crease. He wasn’t as bothered by the state of his shoes, as he kicked them off. Stripping down to his boxers, Sidney began to search around the weekend bag that he used for travelling on short road trips. His habit followed him around the continent, and his blade followed him too. He had tried previously to leave his blade at home, to see if he could try to go without. The times where he did not have the blade with him, he ended up feeling worse and worse within himself. When he was unable to reach for the blade to relieve the thoughts in his head, the thoughts would grow like tumours. What would start as a little niggle of emotion, would transform into something which devoured every thought in Sidney’s head. He was left unable to see past the negatives as they consumed him. Without access to his blade to gain back control of his emotions, when it came down to game-time he was unable to fight past the negativity to focus on hockey. By the time he would finally get back to Pittsburgh, and back to his release, Sidney found that he would end up cutting more as if to make for the times when he hadn’t. 

Sidney sometimes wondered to himself how the little watch box with his blade even got through security at airports; especially when he only had his weekend bag with him. He supposed it was the bonus of flying charter, airport security was completely different to flying commercial. Apparently if it’s a private plane, security really don’t care what you take onboard. Sidney was glad for that, as he opened the box and held his blade between his fingers. Testing the edges, he sighed; they were no longer as sharp and impactful as they had once been. It meant that he was unable to cut as deep, and that it was a lot harder to get the blade to slice across his skin. That didn’t mean that Sidney wasn’t at least going to try, it just meant that he was going to have to replace it soon. 

Resting his blade against the skin on his hip, Sidney pulled. Three cuts for the number of consecutive losses, three more for the number of goals that Boston let in tonight, and finally two for the penalty he took in the first period. 

 

The losses kept coming, with two back to back games. One more against the Bruins, and another against the Carolina Hurricanes. Sidney was counting down the days till his parents and sister came up for the holidays, already dreading the time he was going to have to spend listening to his father's criticism. His family was arriving on the twentieth, allowing them to catch a game before the team went on break for the holidays. Thankfully they were not staying with Sidney for the first night, but they would be staying with him after the game on the twenty-first. 

By the time he went to meet his family from the airport, fresh from practice, Sidney had twenty-three new cuts hidden beneath a bandage on his thigh. He also knew that by the time his family had left his house in a week's time, he would undoubtedly have more. Sidney felt sympathetic towards his mother and his sister; he wasn’t the only one who had to deal with his father's temperament. They too had to put up with it, and although the comments weren’t aimed at them, they still had to listen to them. 

Waiting in arrivals, Sidney pulled the tip of his cap down so that it covered as much of his face as possible. Staring at the floor, he could occasionally hear people around him whisper, and he knew that if he looked up, he would see people doing double takes. Sidney would be happy to stop and greet any fans that came up to him, but Sidney much preferred to stay inconspicuous. Thankfully by keeping a close eye on the flight's arrival time, Sidney didn’t have to wait long in the arrival's terminal for his family. He had been so focused on keeping his head down to the floor, that he hadn’t noticed his family were there until Taylor was right in front of him, throwing her arms around him. 

“Squid!” If people hadn’t noticed him before, they were sure to turn around at Taylors shout. Sidney responded by wrapping his arms around her also, picking her up and spinning her around in the middle of the terminal. Buring his face into her hair, Sidney felt Taylor squeeze him a little bit tighter. He hadn’t seen her since the summer, before he returned to hockey, and before she left for college. Pulling back, Sidney smiled at his mother, hugging her in greeting as well. For his father, he accepted the hand held out for a shake. Around him, he could see people starting to pay attention. Grabbing the handles of the trolley holding the luggage, Sidney began to ferry his family out of the airport to where his car was parked. 

As he expected, they had barely made it out of the crowded airport car park before his father began commenting on Sidney’s recent play. From the side of his eye, he could see Taylor rolling her eyes in the passenger seat. The commentary continued up until Sidney pulled into the car park of the hotel where his family were staying for the first night in Pittsburgh. With every passing moment, the tension had been building inside of him. The atmosphere in the car had quickly shifted from happy, to awkward, and then to tense. It was as if Troy was unloading everything, he had been thinking about his son’s play over the last four months. Sidney didn’t want to listen to advice on plays he had made in October, he doubt he could even recall what he had specifically done in those games without looking back at footage. The comments especially weren’t helpful when he was on a losing streak of five games. Sidney was trying to focus on current issues, not issues from months prior. His father didn’t understand that and Sidney was left gritting his teeth to try to block it out. 

Leaving his parents to get settled in their hotel room, Sidney followed Taylor to hers. The change in subject was appreciated. Away from their father, Sidney was able to get a word in edgeways. The two of them sat cross legged on the bed in her hotel room, and Sidney was finally able to ask Taylor about college, and what courses she had enrolled in. He was able to ask her how her hockey was going, and unlike their father he didn’t feel the need to offer any unwanted insight on how she should be playing. He was so immensely proud of his little sister, and everything that she was accomplishing in her life. 

 

That night, they headed to dinner at the Lemieux’s house; something which Sidney still did weekly. The dining table at Mario’s was full, like it used to be back in Sidney’s rookie year. The Lemieux kids were all back from college as well, and it felt like home. Mario had even managed to get his father to stop with the hockey comments for the majority of the evening. After dinner was finished, Nathalie had cornered him in the kitchen as they were preparing to serve dessert. Pulling him into a hug, she smiled gently at him as they broke apart, “Don’t look so sad, it might not be as bad as you’ve imagined.” 

Sidney felt himself redden slightly, fearing his dread over the holiday season was too obvious. He didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. He had spent so much time imagining the worst, and picturing scenarios where his father spent all five days criticising him; Sidney hadn’t even thought to give the holiday a chance. Admittedly, his thoughts hadn’t been improved when his father had barely waited to leave the airport before the critique began. 

“I’ll try,” Sidney promised like a chastised child. Nathalie’s smile widened, pushing a plate down the counter towards him. An amazing looking slice of vanilla cheesecake with a huge dollop of melted chocolate on top adorned with mini Reese’s cups, sat on the plate and Sidney’s sweet-tooth salivated at the sight. 

Resisting the urge to devour the dessert in front of him immediately, Sidney admitted quietly for the first time; his words speaking about more than just his struggles with his father, “It’s just hard.” 

“And it will be, but it won’t get any better until you tell him to stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again big thank you to @melomedio for Beta Reading. She is such a lovely help.
> 
> So hope you enjoy this chapter, the next chapter is going to be the start of big drama, and will involve the initial inspiration for this story. I will one day get around to writing the initial story but right now I need Zhenya to the rescue.


	8. Chapter 8

Sidney knew he was crazy, but he was glad he had managed to avoid seeing his sister and his mother on game day. It was part of the reason he had put them up in a hotel for their first night in Pittsburgh. He had tried to break his own superstitions a few times, and every time he had tried, he had still ended up injured. It was something he was done trying to justify. The logical part of his brain could try to prove that there was no direct link between getting injured and contacting his family on game day; but the memory of his Winter Classis concussion always clung to the forefront of his mind.

With the last seconds of the third period whittling away, Sidney tried to search for his families faces in the crowd. The packed arena hampered his search, but instead as the Penguins sat with a comfortable three-point lead in the game, he took the opportunity to watch the fans cheer and scream. The final buzzer rang, and Sidney smiled up at the fans from the bench. Breaking the five-game losing streak in the last game before the holiday break felt amazing. Jumping over the boards, he skated across to Geno, banging into him with a laugh. The rest of the team huddled together, delighted at the win over Columbus. Sidney hadn’t realized how much he and the rest of the team had needed this win until the weight had lifted off of his shoulders. 

Finally free of the press, and dressed back in his game day suit, Sidney strolled out of the locker room nearly walking straight into Geno.  Sidney’s family had been waiting outside the locker room door, and his parents were stood watching Taylor and Geno talk. They were both talking with such animated enthusiasm that Sidney felt irrationally jealous. 

“That last goal you put in was awesome, I don’t think Korpisalo was even expecting that!” Taylor enthused.  Stepping out from behind Geno, Sidney was met with a running embrace from his excited sister. 

“Was wondering what take so long, thought you hiding in shower.” Geno teased, slapping Sidney on the back once Taylor had released him. 

“You’re the one who takes hours getting ready!” Sidney laughed before realising that his parents were watching his interactions with Geno, and Geno’s hand was still resting on his shoulder. A pool of anxiety spawned in the pit of Sidney’s stomach, as thoughts in his head centred on how comforting it was to have Geno’s hand on him. He knew he wasn’t allowed to indulge in those thoughts, but apparently Sidney missed school the day that everyone else had a life lesson about pining over unrequited feelings. 

Patting Geno on the shoulder, Sidney was surprised to find himself pulled into a hug. He was being held just as tightly as Taylor had held him a moment before. “Have good Christmas Sid.”

“You too Geno, see you bright and early the twenty-sixth.” As the hug broke apart, Sidney couldn’t help but return the smile that Geno offered him. He kept trying to convince himself that it was a normal friend thing to do as he watched Geno turn and walk towards the exit. 

Sidney allowed himself the little luxury of a lie in, enjoying the simple pleasure as he stretched and arched his back off of the bed. Flopping back down, Sidney rolled over, frowning at the flashing light on his phone. He rarely used the thing, most of his friends and teammates knew that and didn’t bother even trying to contact him via it. Unlocking his phone, the message that opened made him sit up in bed in attention. 

_So message being sent to everyone, just wanted to give everyone a heads up so no one gets caught unaware. I’m in a relationship, with a guy called Tyler. Putting a pic of us on Instagram without a comment in a moment, and there’s going be a press conference at 10 about it._

Jamie Benn. If Sidney had to make a guess at someone being gay it would not have been him. Another text was just underneath the group one, one sent directly to him. 

_Hey Sid, I know you don’t use social media, so here is the_ _link._ _He’s not a hockey player, but he is awesome. Hope you watch the press conference._

The messages were time stamped from only a few minutes prior, and a quick glance up at the time at the top of his screen told Sidney that there was still a bit of time before the conference. 

**_Congrats Jamie! Seriously I mean it buddy. I want to meet him next time we play down with you guys. Did you let_ ** **_Toews_ ** **_know?_ **

_Yeh I let Toews know, wouldn’t be fair to throw this at him without warning. He was happy for us. Don’t think its_ _gonna_ _make him and his other half follow suit though. Will have to be drag him along to the all-star game if we get chose_ _n._

Sidney laughed at Jamie’s confidence, the teams for the All-Star weekend hadn’t been released yet. He could just picture Jamie sat uncomfortably in his suit, waiting in the back of the arena counting down the minutes before he could upload the picture and let his secret out to the world. Maybe the confidence that came from knowing he would be selected as an All-Star was Jamie’s only defence against the sudden wave of change that was about to hit him. Sidney really hoped for his friend’s sake that this Tyler guy was worth it.

His family were already in the kitchen when Sidney made it downstairs, his phone still in his hand. He could see his sister do a double take, but she chose not to ask why. His mother was flipping pancakes at the hob, offering a good morning as Sidney walked past her to prod his coffee machine to life. He waited for the machine to finally chug out a full cup of coffee, before he took the cup into the den. His father was sat on one of the armchairs, a newspaper spread out in front of him. 

“Morning dad,” Sidney greeted as he turned on the television, automatically switching to the channel that Jamie told him to put on. His dad peeked up from behind the newspaper, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the green background of the room on the TV. The Dallas Stars logo was printed across the background of the press conference room. The news channel that was streaming the upcoming conference had thrown a header across the bottom of the screen, stating Dallas Calls Surprise Press Conference. 

There was audio of a reporter speculating what the press conference was going to be about, but Sidney just focused on the screen waiting for the moment that the Stars Management and Jamie walked into the room. From the corner of his eye, he could see his father's newspaper being folded and put to the side. The clock on Sidney's phone ticked over to ten am; almost simultaneously the audio cut away from the reporter to the noisy chatter of the press room. 

Dallas Stars General Manager, CEO and the Head Coach walked up onto the stage; Jamie Benn followed behind looking vaguely grey as the camera zoomed in on him as he took the podium.  “Thank you everyone for coming today, and before anyone asks, I’m not being traded.” Sidney watched as the Jamie on the screen glanced behind at the management team. “Hopefully I’m not anyways,” Jamie joked, his voice shaky from nerves.

“What I’m actually here to tell everyone is, I am in a relationship with a wonderful guy. I know that some people will hear this and think why is this important, or they will be so offended that they will say they will never watch me play again. But I hope that telling people, and being open about who I am, and being honest about who I love, will help someone.” Jamie paused as if to gather himself, before continuing with a little less judder in his voice. “Now no one else has to fear being the first ‘gay’ hockey player, and instead I hope they find the courage within themselves to accept who they are. Thank you, I will now take a few questions.”

Sidney wanted to turn the volume down as the reporters went wild, shouting over each other to get their questions heard. He could only imagine how loud that room was for Jamie right now.  From the other end of the sofa, his attention was captured by his father’s snort at the television. 

“He has just ruined his career.” Sidney’s father continued to shake his head in disdain as he once more picked up his newspaper.

“How has he ruined it?” Sidney retorted, unable to hold back his reaction. “He is controlling the story. It’s not like he’s been caught by some tabloid reporter.”

Sidney’s father glanced at him over the top of the newspaper. The fact that he was not putting it down irked Sidney more than it should have; it was as if he didn’t consider the conversation was worth his full attention. “He might as well have been caught in a scandal. Regardless of how he has told people, he is forever going to be the first queer hockey player. Now no matter what he does It will always link back to him being gay. If that team of his ever managed to win the cup, he will be referenced by his sexuality. If his team lose a game, the news will say it's because someone in the team has an issue with him. I won’t even start on what the other teams will say to him on the ice.” Troy snapped. His hands tightened on the newspaper, the sheets crinkling in his grasp. 

Sidney bristled at his father’s words, partly because he knew to some extent, he was right. He knew that Toews and Kane didn’t announce it because they simply didn’t feel the need. They talked about doing it if they were to get married or when they retired. From his own experience, he was simply scared. Sidney was scared of his family's reaction, he had never told any of them that the was gay. Instead he left them to think whatever they thought. He was certain his mother thought he was permanently single simply because his father had told him that relationships were a distraction and that they were something for when hockey was over. The other reason was his fear; Sidney was still just the scared little kid inside. Despite being twenty-eight, he was still the kid who received so many threats that he was forced to not wear his own jersey between games.

“He isn’t the first gay man to play hockey.” Sidney retorted.

“Well obviously they had better sense not to act on their sexuality.” The words stung worse than any hit Sidney had ever experienced. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting so beautifully close to where the fun really begins. I am so freaking excited to get those plans down on paper.
> 
> So the whole Jamie Benn press conference is a little link to the story idea that birthed Highlights. It will be written eventually, and I think the little inclusion in here will definitely urge me along with it. Context wise it is a Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin fic where Tyler is not a hockey player. No spoilers, but that's the basic gist of it.
> 
> The usual appreciation is provided to my beta reader Melomedio


	9. Chapter 9

The biting words that his father had said to him after they watched the Dallas Press Conference, hung in his subconscious like a noose around his neck for the remainder of the day. Sidney was left feeling like he’d been checked against the boards at high speed. The shock in his system made him feel on edge for the rest of the day. He could hardly stand to be in the same room as his father, fearful of what words might come out of Troy’s mouth next. When he was in the same room as his father, he was fearing what words may come out of his father’s mouth next. By the evening, the nerves that were running through Sidney’s body had only softened slightly, but nothing would stop him from that didn’t stop him from sitting in the den that evening and turning on the game. It was The Dallas Stars vs. The Chicago Blackhawks and he felt like he needed to watch it for himself, and he needed to watch it for all the other gay players he knew in the league. Sidney felt like he owed it to Jamie, and to Jonathan and Patrick. 

His father’s eyes burned with ill-disguised anger as the reporters and commentators discussed the earlier press conference. Sidney tried to avoid making eye-contact with his father, but he could still; feel the glares being sent in his direction. Sitting next to him, Taylor was the godsend that she always was, discreetly curling herself up next to him, her head dropping onto his shoulder. In the space between them she interlocked their fingers, gently squeezing his hand in comradery. Just because Sidney was ignoring his father’s reactions didn’t mean Taylor and his mother weren’t paying attention to them. When Dallas ended the game with a shut-out, Sidney felt so proud of his friends. Jamie had been a machine on the ice, and Toews and Kane came across so calm despite the circumstances of the game. As the final buzzer sounded, Sidney rose from the sofa, leaving his family in front of the TV. He had done what he felt like he needed to do, and he didn’t need to keep feeling his father’s glare on his back. 

Retreating into the safety and privacy of his bedroom, Sidney dropped his calm façade as soon as the door closed behind him. Grabbing his phone off the bedside table, he ignored the battery warning of 5%, and proceeded to type out a text to Jamie congratulating him on the game. He also fired off a quick text to Toews as well just to show support. Personally, he had felt on edge since Jamie’s press conference, and he could only begin to imagine how it must feel for a gay player who was in a relationship. He knew from some of Toews drunken ramblings after they won the gold at the Olympics, just how far he and Kane went to hide and disguise their relationship from the media. Sidney couldn’t help but feel mildly at ease, knowing that he had no need to worry about being caught by the media. He didn’t let himself indulge in sex, so it wasn’t a problem. 

There were a mix of emotions and thoughts running through Sidney’s head as he locked the bathroom door behind him. He never tended to lock the door, but with his family around, he didn’t want to risk anyone deciding to burst in and accidentally catch him. With the door secure, Sidney switched the shower on, and the room soon filled with steam as the hot water sprayed down. Pulling the blade from it’s hiding space, Sidney stripped out of his clothes and dropped down onto the floor of his shower. The water fell onto his head and ran down his face merging with the tears that were starting to form in his eyes. 

His father’s reaction to Jamie’s sexuality that morning was at the forefront of Sidney’s mind. After years of speculation and pondering he finally knew how his father would react if he came out. Sidney had now seen and heard his father’s reaction and he didn’t even want to think about how much worse that reaction would be when it was his turn to admit the truth. The shouting would be worse, and the words would be more poisonous. Sidney had been at the receiving end of poisoned words for most of his life, but never from his own family. Today he felt like his father’s words were aimed at him and that was a feeling he’d never imagined. 

On the wet floor next to him, his blade stared up at him as if waiting for the moment it would slice his skin. Sidney tried to resist the urge to pick up his blade, but after today he needed nothing more than to bring the fresh steel against his skin. It was a new blade, he had only started using it a few days prior and it was still unblemished, cutting through his skin like it was butter. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his shower, with the water dripping down off his head and mixing with the tears in his eyes, Sidney wondered if this was what rock-bottom felt like. 

 

The remaining days of the Christmas break were extraordinarily tense. After the relative silence that he had received from his father on the day of the press conference, the days following made Sidney want to hide away from his family. If his father’s comments had grated on him before they were beyond overbearing now. It was like standing up to his father made a switch flick in his attitude towards him. The day after they watched Jamie Benn come out, Troy had acted like nothing had happened, and had slipped back into taking apart Sidney’s hockey. After knowing Troy’s feelings about gay athletes his commentary was no longer just critique to Sidney. Instead Sidney felt like he was receiving demoralising criticism. It was as if his father had suddenly decided to be the biggest anti-Sid critic out there so much so that the Philadelphia Flyer’s press would have a field day if they heard his words 

Taylor and his mother were left to deal with the awkward air that filled the room whenever Sidney and his father were together and everything came to a head on Christmas morning. Taylor the enthusiastic firework that she was, burst into Sidney’s room early on Christmas day. Outside, the sun was barely beginning to rise, and regardless of his sister’s energy, he had no desire to leave his warm bed for a few more hours. Taylor had launched herself on top of her brother’s dozing form, after failing at trying to yank his duvet from him. Sidney whined low in his throat, pretending that his sister was too heavy. “Go back to sleep, or I’m gonna return your present.” Sidney groaned, nuzzling his face back into his pillow.

“You can’t return my present, or I’ll return yours.” Taylor retorted, before eventually rolling away and forcing her way underneath the covers, curling up next to him. Sidney swore as she pressed her cold feet against his shins, just like she used to do when they were kids. Whenever he came back from school or came back during the holidays from his billet family, Sidney would wake up to find Taylor sneaking into his room. He would allow his little sister to crawl into bed next to him, and he would hug her close knowing that sooner or later he was going to have to leave her again. 

“What’s going on with you and Dad?” Taylor whispered some time later. The room was no longer dark, and the sun was now spilling through the gaps in the blinds and lighting the room. 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Sidney automatically responded, pointedly ignoring the snort that he received in response. He was thankful that Taylor chose not to pursue an answer and he allowed himself to be dragged from his warm bed and pulled downstairs. Taylor laughed as she saw what he was wearing once he stood up. The jogging bottoms were thick fleece, chosen to hide the large bulging bandage on both his hips and thighs. The T-shirt was the first shirt he grabbed before he rolled into bed the night before. Glancing in the mirror, he understood his sisters laugh. The number ‘29’ printed on the back made Sidney join his sister’s hyena laugh with a honking giggle of his own .   
“Why have you got one of Flower’s shirts?” Taylor managed to ask in between giggles, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

“I don’t even know. I guess I just really want to be a goalie.” Sidney mused, pushing his sister’s shoulder at the ‘dork’ that he got in reply. 

 

The tension peaked during the Christmas gift exchange as everyone sat down around the tree, the living room a bombsite of wrapping paper. Troy had saved Sidney’s present for last and when his father finally opened Sidney’s card, the rest of the family watched with bated breath as Troy simply looked down at the inside and said nothing. His mother glanced over her husbands’ shoulder, and quickly threw a smile on her face as she enthused about the golf holiday that Sidney had gifted his father. 

“Oh, that will be lovely, won’t it Troy,” said Trina in a voice that brooked no argument. Both Sidney and Taylor had been on the receiving end of that voice as kids and knew it wasn’t worth your life to disagree with her. His father obviously knew that voice as well, but the thank you that he offered Sidney was flat and emotionless. In that moment, Sidney wished his father hadn’t bothered saying anything at all. 

 

He dropped down into his usual seat on the charter the next morning, so grateful to be away from his father. Flower was still out, so it was a quiet trip, and exactly what Sidney wanted. When people asked how his holidays were, they took his answer of “Good” at face value and and didn’t question him further. He was able to relax into his seat for the two-and-a-half-hour flight as he listened to his teammates chatter happily with each-other, to the loud shouts in Russian from the card game a few seats behind him. It was going to be a long day; they were flying first thing in the morning to get to Minnesota by mid-morning. They had a practice session on arrival before retiring to the hotel for food and nap and then finally returning to the arena for warm up and the game. Curling in on himself in his seat, Sidney tried to force himself to go to sleep even with all the noise on the plane. It was a back-to-back road trip, and they were expected back on the plane straight after the game tonight to head to Winnipeg. Sleep was going to be a luxury, so Sidney was going to grab it as and when he could. 

The game against the Wild was fast, ending with a win for the Penguins. As expected, reporters crowded around him after the game. They asked the usual questions about how the teams played, and then one of the reporters found their courage and asked the question he was waiting for. “So, what do you think about Jamie Benn’s announcement?”

“What about it? I am super proud of the guy. Nothing is going to change on the ice, and nothing will change off the ice.” Sidney smiled at the reporter; what response were they expecting him to give, if they were hoping for some homophobic ‘gays shouldn’t play’ comment, they were asking the wrong person. 

From a few stalls across, he could hear a different reporter asked Geno the same question. His heart caught in his chest as he tried to eavesdrop on the response. “He gay, so? He happy. Penguins still win next game against.” Sidney felt relieved, but he still didn’t know if Geno’s response was his own words or just media training. He hoped to the bottom of the soul, that it was Geno’s own opinion.

 

The day was dragging by the time Sidney and the team were shepherded out of the arena and into the bus back to the airport. The win and the adrenaline of the game had already faded from Sidney’s system giving way to emptiness. There was another two-hour flight that he had to get through before he could get to a hotel room and stop pretending to be happy. Some of the team were verging on the same levels of sleep deprivation as Sidney, while others were still as rambunctious as they had been that morning. Sidney’s stomach growled just as the bus started moving. Dinner was going to be served on the plane but if he was being honesty with himself despite his stomach’s protests, Sidney wasn’t feeling up to eating. He had forced down his Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich before the game, just because he felt like he had to. It was a ritual and rituals were important to Sidney. When he broke his jaw, he’d blended the sandwich down into pulp just so that he didn’t break routine. 

On the plane, dinner was handed out as soon as they reached maximum cruising altitude. Sidney was pretending to be asleep as the servers passed him by, but with Flower’s seat empty for this trip, they simply reached over him and placed his meal on the empty seat. The smell of the food repulsed him and made his stomach churn at the thought of eating. Squeezing his eyes firmly shut, Sidney attempted to ignore the smell coming from the plate. It wasn’t like it was your typical airplane food, this was a real diet-plan approved meal full of high energy and high protein foods exactly what they should eat after a game. 

Sidney had been struggling to eat for a few days, and he knew that if he kept it up, he was going to have to talk to the team doctors about it. He could already see that he’d lost a little bit of weight and he couldn’t even afford to lose a few pounds this far into the season. It reminded him of his first few years in Pittsburgh, where no matter how much he ate during the season he was never able to maintain his weight with all the training and practice that he did. He knew that this weight loss wasn’t due to illness or the overactive metabolism of his early NHL years, but he just didn’t know how what to do with that knowledge. 

They reached the hotel past two in the morning and the team did a slow zombie shuffle towards their designated hotel rooms. Sidney was part of the sleepwalking parade, but as soon as the door to his hotel room swung closed behind him, he got a rush of adrenaline as he searched for his blade. Sidney’s body relaxed as his fingers wrapped around the edges of the box, knowing that soon he would be able to feel something other than the emptiness that was currently taking up residence in his soul.

Dropping the box onto the bed, Sidney peeled away his game day suit and dumped it messily on the floor. That was tomorrow’s problem, for tonight he couldn’t bring himself to care about the wrinkles forming on his shirt and jacket. His hips and thighs were a mess on both sides; normally he would only cut his right hip but over the past few days, he’d been expanding his cuts downwards. As a result, his right leg was a tangle of overlapping lines, some half-healed and others fresh. His left thigh was more structured, an orderly row of thick, neatly spaced gouges that pulled against his tender flesh with every step he took. 

Releasing the blade from its box, Sidney pressed the steel against his skin and tried to focus on the blade and not on everything else that was swimming through his mind. His father and his harsh words for Sidney were at the forefront followed swiftly by his own failed attempts at regaining control over his life, though neither of those made him pull the blade through to make the first incision. Instead his demons whispered “What if Geno’s words were just media training? What if he’d be disgusted if he knew the truth about you? What if, everything changed for the worst?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always edited and read by @melomedio, she is amazingly helpful!
> 
>  
> 
> Okay so next chapter is already written and edited, and it is so evil I am proud.


	10. Chapter 10

The next game was a blur to Sidney’s sleep deprived mind. He could remember fragments, but other than the moments before a brief nap in the hotel and the sandwich that he forced down, Sidney barely remembered anything in-between getting off and getting back on the jet. 

His thighs burned sore from the pace of the game and from the still raw cuts that covered the area under his boxers. The bandages pulled at his skin and Sidney knew they would be painful to pull off when he changed them later. He paused to study them as he changed out of his underarmour in a bathroom stall after the game. In the privacy of the stall he let himself be fascinated by the colours that seeped through the white bandages throughout the day. The red of blood now shone dark and mottled and he couldn’t resist the urge to pull down on the coloured sections of the bandage, wincing in pain, but delighting in the spread of fresh colour through the gauze. 

It was another late-night flight and they arrived in Pittsburgh in the early hours of the morning. The December night held a biting chill that pushed straight through his layers as he stepped out the doors. A shiver ran through him as a breeze rushed over the runway and snow fluttered around Sidney’s ankles wetting the hem of his suit trousers. With his bag thrown over his shoulder, Sidney waved his goodbyes at his teammates as he made his way back to his car. There were two days before the next game, which was thankfully at home. Sidney had two days where he could lie in bed, only getting up for morning skate and practice. 

 

Sidney’s alarm was unnecessary. He had been watching the sunlight slowly creep higher through his windows since dawn. The sleep that he had been wanting to hide in, had been evasive, leaving Sidney to his dark thoughts in the dark room. For the first time ever, Sidney had no urge to roll from his sheets. The prospect of facing morning skate and the smiles of his team were too much to handle. The only thing that kicked him into motion, was the realisation that if he didn’t show up, the team and the rest of the staff would undoubtedly turn up at his house to make sure he was okay. He never missed an optional morning skate, and the equipment and coaching staff had gone to extreme lengths, including hiding his skates, just to stop him lacing up. Having his skates hidden was one of the most crippling things that anyone has ever done to him and it made him feel lost.

His floor was a maze of unwashed clothes hastily discarded and left where they fell. Sidney shuffled slowly from his solitude and dubiously sniffed at a hoody that he was sure had been on the floor for more than two weeks , before tugging it over his head. His house was silent as he stumbled sluggishly down the stairs. His family had returned to Nova Scotia the same day he flew out to play against Minnesota. Without his parents and Taylor invading his space Sidney had no reason to fake a smile on his face. Walking into the kitchen, Sidney opened the fridge door just to stare at the contents. He had no desire to eat anything inside, despite the fridge being filled with containers of ready to heat meals; some left as a parting gift from his mother, and others provided by his nutritionist. Sidney couldn’t help but grimace at the food, the grimace remaining on his face even after he closed the fridge door. Resigning himself to skipping breakfast, he threw a cup of protein powder and water into a shaker and Sidney forced himself to take the first step towards his front door. 

 

The days slipped by, when he wasn’t in his skates, Sidney was curled up underneath his unwashed sheets. He couldn’t even begin to recall when he last changed his bedding. His clothes were piling up higher on the floor, alongside a small stack of dirty plates. He felt permanently exhausted with pretending to be his normal self to the team. Every time he forced his practiced fake smile on his face before stepping into the locker room, Sidney felt like he was falling further into darkness.

On the day of the game against the Maple Leafs, Sidney put his facade into place as he pushed open the door to the locker room. The laughter swirled around him as he stepped inside, one laugh booming above the rest. Flower sat in his stall, half-dressed in his gear. Sidney suddenly didn’t have to fake the smile on his face, “I didn’t know you were off the injury reserve list.”

Flower rose, flawlessly balancing on his skate blades as he hobbled over to Sidney. “I’m allowed to dress for the next game, and even better I am allowed to drink!”

The cheers of his teammates filled the room, Geno had been talking about the New Years Eve party that he was hosting tomorrow for the best part of a month, and everyone was excited for it. Sidney braced himself as Flower threw an arm around his shoulders, swinging him from side to side. Sidney nodded along when it was expected of him as the others enthused over tomorrows party. Inside, he was just counting down the moments until he could once more return to his bed. 

 

The game was a mess of penalties with calls for hooking and roughing. Despite having a goal and an assist, Sidney felt like he was a worthless participant in the game. They got two pucks in the net, but it wasn’t enough for them to win. Sidney sat in his stall after the handshake line and the media, simply hanging his head in defeat. In the stalls around him, his teammates were equally expressive in their frustration . Geno angrily pulled off his equipment, whilst Murray sat perched in his stall, face stony, still fully dressed. The last of the media had already been pushed from the room and some teammates had already finished showering and had donned their game day suits to leave the arena. Glancing at Matt, Tanger nodded pointedly at Sidney as he left the room. Sidney knew it was his job to console Murray, but he couldn’t even bear to stand up, let alone walk across the room and try to console the rookie. More teammates wandered out of the shower, some in varying states of undress, but nearly all of them shot the same glance at Sidney. After a fourth person’s eyes shifted between the captain and the rookie, Sidney finally forced himself to stand.

His muscles ached with every step so the few feet across the locker room felt like a mile. Dropping down into the stall next to Murray, Sidney paused as he tried to find the words that he needed. He’d been captain for years, and never had he been at a loss for comforting words. It was part of being the captain, and it was one of the many things that Mario had taught him. Today Sidney wished that it could be the other way around, he wanted someone to come up to him and check he was okay. He would lie to their face, but he wanted to feel like someone was seeing through his mask. 

“It’ll be better next game right?” Murray questioned before Sidney could find the words to speak. Sidney nodded, the guilt rising inside of him as Murray turned away from him to stare back at the ground. 

“It-” Sidney began.

“Will get better, I know.” Murray repeated, cutting Sidney’s sentence off once more. “Don’t worry I’m just pissed about the shootout. Back to normal tomorrow though.” Sidney accepted the words with a nod, pushing himself up from the stall. He couldn’t think of a way to respond off the top of his head, and he feared that if he tried to say anything now it would just be the wrong thing. 

When he got back to his house the words that he should have said to Matt bounced through his brain. Words that could have helped the young goaltender were left useless and unused in his head. Forgoing the kitchen and the food he knew he desperately needed post-game, Sidney climbed the stairs to his room. He didn’t bother turning the light on, not wanting to see the mess that was his house and his life. Peeling away the layers of his suit, and toeing off his shoes, Sidney fell forwards onto his unmade bed. Clutching at the edge of his covers, he tugged the heavy weight of his duvet over his head. As he attempted to shelter himself from the world, Sidney tried to imagine a time where he didn’t feel this empty . 

\------------------------------------------------

It was already late when Sidney and the Fleury’s made their entrance to Geno’s party having pre-drinked at The Fleury’s house. Veronique was already having to hold Flower up before they made it through the front door, a prequel to how their evening was probably going to end. They had a baby sitter for Estelle, so the couple were able to let loose. Fresh off injury reserve for concussion symptoms, Flower went all in, dragging Sidney into his drunken shenanigans. The alcohol that Sidney had already consumed was leaving him dizzy and giddy. The lack of food in his system had helped the alcohol rush through his body, and after the first few drinks, he was closer to being drunk than he had been in a long time. 

Geno’s party was in full swing when they arrived, glitter and confetti already sprinkling the wooden floors. Spilled drinks made the soles of their shoes tacky as they walked through the house. Bottles and cups littered every surface that Sidney walked past, and the flash of cell phone cameras mixed with the strobe lights that Geno had installed for the night. Readily accepting the drink that Flower pressed into his hand without questioning where it had appeared from, Sidney stood like a wallflower watching the room. 

The furniture in the den had been pushed back to create a makeshift dance floor; the patio doors had been propped open and from where he stood Sidney could just see the DJ booth sat on the deck outside. People filled the house; teammates and their families, people who worked for the team, and a group of people who Sidney didn’t recognize, but whose thick accents and foreign sounding words singled them out as Geno’s friends from Russia. 

The den was too full of people for Sidney’s wallflower tendencies so he explored the house trying to find a less crowded area. As he walked, he waved at Murray from across the room, who seemed to be in a much cheerier mood, and greeted everyone as he passed by. Outside of the dance party in the den, candles filled the tables that weren’t overflowing with half empty bottles. Candlewax dripped down counter tops and shelves leaving droplets of wax on the hardwood floors. Silly single use cameras were scattered around the house as well, free for anyone to pick up and take photos with. Sidney laughed to himself as he examined one, imagining the horrors that some people were likely to get up to with one of these in their possession. If there weren’t at least three dick pics in the collection when Geno got them developed, Sidney was going to be ashamed of his teammates.

Stepping into the kitchen, he was rewarded by Gonch passing him a cup filled with an ominously coloured green liquid. The liquor bottles that surrounded the surfaces, and the number of cups that Gonch was distributing suggested that he was playing bartender, but Sidney was focused on the fact that his drink looked like it belonged in the Wizard of Oz. 

“Drink, пизда!” Gonch laughed, patting Sidney on the back so hard that it made him spill the drink over his hand. Flipping him the bird, Sidney stared at his drink, debating the chances of it actually being poison. Deciding that if it was, it would at least put him out of his own misery, Sidney tossed back the drink, grimacing as the alcohol burned its way down his throat.

 

Sidney was sitting on a couch he had commandeered with Flower and Veronique as the DJ announced that everyone had only a few minutes till midnight. It was safe to say that Flower was equally as drunk as Sidney and was enjoying mocking Sidney for being a lightweight. After he had drank three glasses of Gonch’s ‘poison punch’, Sidney had tried to recall the last time he ate. When he had realized that it was the day before, it was easier for him to understand why the alcohol was running amok through his body. He’d reclined himself back on the couch because he didn’t trust himself to stand and not fall over. 

With the announcement, Sidney found himself being pulled on to his unsteady feet by Geno who smiled down at him once he had stopped wobbling. It was the first time that he had properly seen Geno for the entire party, besides fleeting glances. Geno’s cheeks were blushed red, either from the heat of the crowd, dancing or the alcohol. Sidney didn’t know which one it was, but he couldn’t help but think how good the blush looked with Geno’s big smile.

“Countdown and fireworks, come on Sid.” Geno’s hand was still holding his, and Sidney found himself being led outside on to the deck. Flower and Veronique followed close behind, and once the group stepped out into the bracing winter air, Sidney felt himself be swung around. Flower smacked a wet kiss against his cheek, before running away to his next target. Sidney was left to watch with Geno and Veronique as Flower spun Kessel, dipping him as he planted a kiss on his lips. Flowers giggle and Kessel’s roar caught everyone’s attention as Flower pranced off to find his next target. After Flower had kissed Lovejoy, Rusty and Horny; Veronique left to collect her husband, with a departing comment of, “He best be kissing me when that countdown starts.”

“All Goalies crazy,” Geno laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes. Sidney bit back the snort that threatened to escape. Around them, the other guests had grown bored with the entertainment Flower was offering and had instead turned to watch the sky expectantly. The shouts filled the air, as people joined in with the DJ counting down from ten. 

“3, 2, 1!” Sidney was about to join in with the shouts of ‘Happy New Year’, when a large hand cupped the back of his neck, and he was captured in a dominating kiss. His breath caught in his throat, and his hand hung limply by his side as he stared at Geno’s closed eyes. The fireworks being set off behind him, were nothing compared to the fireworks that Geno’s touch set off. His heart felt like it was trying to break free from his chest, and with every explosion that he could hear, it felt like his heart was attempting to match. 

Geno pulled back from the kiss, and Sidney could still do nothing but stare at his friend. His heart didn’t know if it was happy or if it was seconds away from breaking. All Sidney could think about was Geno kissing him just for a laugh, and that left him feeling like the world was falling apart around him. “Sid,” 

Sidney shook his head as his name fell from Geno’s lips, the tears already beginning to fall down his face. Staring at the floor so that he wouldn’t show his weakness, Sidney turned and began to push his way through the crowd. He felt so humiliated and stupid that he could have even momentarily been happy. Running through the emptied house, Sidney pulled the front door wide open, and ran out towards the street. 

 

Sidney ran the entire way back to his house, his legs burning and his chest aching by the time he slammed his front door closed behind him. The tears were still streaming down his face, and his chest heaved with sobs as he took the stairs two at a time. Tripping over discarded shoes, Sidney didn’t stop running until he fell to his knees on his bathroom floor. Holding his head, he howled into his hands. Sobs shaking his entire body. The darkness in his head taunted him as he cried, and he believed every word that his own mind said. 

Just a week before he though he’d hit rock bottom when he was crying in the shower, but that was nothing compared to how he felt in this precise moment. Everything boiled down to right now. Every single word that he’d had whispered at him, to his face, behind his back and to the press. Every attempted hit he had received as a child, all the abuse he received from complete strangers just because he was good at what he did. Every hit he took on the ice, some because of the game, but others done just to injure. Sidney’s cries grew louder as he remembered every criticism that his father had said to him, and every word his father had said just that week. Finally knowing what Geno’s lips felt like, was what made the cries the worst. 

Pulling the drawer straight out of the cabinet, Sidney let the contents fall onto the floor, items scattering in different directions. His fingers scrambled to grab the watch box, wrenching it open he held what he needed. Throwing the box at a wall, Sidney stared at the razor blade in his hand. For only the second time in his life, Sidney brought the edge of the blade to the skin on the inside of his arm. Taking one shaky breath, he pulled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to @melomedio for all the help and edits in this chapter!
> 
> There is an alternative scene, where Sid is the one who kisses Geno here- https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521775 
> 
> Пизда – pussy/cunt
> 
> I have finally reached the cataclysm in the story, and I must apologize for the level of angst that is in these chapters.  
> The next chapter is going to be mainly from Geno's Perspective. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this update, let me know what you think.


	11. Chapter 11

The noisy gossip of reporters filled the conference room. Cameras were rolling, anticipating the moment someone would take the podium. The press were eagerly speculating about the news that was due to be announced. The surprise conference had been called only a few short hours ago and no one in the room knew why it had been called. Wild theories had already begun circulating around the room, by the time that the door opened, and a tall, sober-faced man walked into the room.

Flashbulbs burst and, the chatter of the reporters fell quiet as the room filled with the noise of camera shutters. Mario Lemieux slowly walked to stand behind the podium. His face was grey as he stared out into the small sea of journalists. Gripping the edges of the podium, his knuckles white with the strain, Mario closed his eyes and exhaled a shaking breath. When he opened his eyes he could see, the press looking up at him with hunger in their eyes salivating over a potential story. Eagerly waiting to put words onto paper.

“Good morning everyone. In the early hours of the morning, Sidney Crosby was rushed to the hospital.” The noise in the room exploded, leaving Mario to struggle over his next few words as he fought against the volume. The microphone that he was speaking into offered little ammunition against the sound of a hundred journalists. Raising his voice, he continued increasing his volume until he could be heard again. 

“He is now in stable condition and will be receiving the best medical care available. The Pittsburgh Penguins wish him the speediest recovery, and we are ready to support him until he is ready to be back on the ice. At this moment in time, we are not taking questions, and we ask that you respect his privacy as he recovers. Thank you.”

The uproar in the room only increased when Mario merely nodded at the press before stepping away from the podium and exiting the room. The reporters from the news outlets present had been given the juiciest piece of hockey news they had ever come across, but they had no real details to talk about. If they were to remain ethical and stay in the good graces of the Penguins organisation, all they could report was ‘Sidney Crosby Hospitalised’. In theory they could go after the story and try to find out more details, but they’d risk never being allowed entry into the locker room again. Every reporter in the room was left amongst the shouting to decide what side of the ethical spectrum they were going to sit on in regards to the story. 

\--------

Fireworks filled the sky with colour and filled the air with the smell of smoke, but they didn’t hold any interest for Zhenya, as the buzz of rejection pulsed inside. He had finally done what he had wanted to do for years, since the first time Sid had let him go out last onto the ice. After years of niggling thoughts and imaginings Zhenya had finally learnt what it was like to kiss Sid. In one flash of a firework, kissing Sid had made Zhenya feel like he had finally found a true home outside of Russia. 

Spinning around, Zhenya looked up to watch the remainder of the firework display. His hand still burnt with the memory of Sid’s skin underneath his fingers. Pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans to fight off the cold, he watched the last few bursts of colour in melancholy. Others around him clapped and cheered at the display’s finale, but all Zhenya didn’t notice as he was lost in his memories. . 

Not even three weeks ago, Flower had urged him to act on his feelings. They had sat down in the Fleury’s kitchen, whilst Estelle had been left to wake up Sidney. The Cheshire cat grin that had filled Flower’s face had said all the words they needed as he had cornered Zhenya at the kitchen table with a cup of jam-sweetened-tea. “You going to explain why you run around like madman searching for Sid? Or should I say what I think?”

Zhenya shrugged his shoulders at the nosey Canadian, his arms crossed firmly across his chest. He had always held a spark for Sid. Though he initially thought it was admiration for his talent on the ice, and his unbeatable hockey knowledge, Zhenya began to question the truth of his feelings when that tickle of admiration moved from hockey to cooing over the little quirks that Sid had. No one in their right mind would look at Sidney Crosby’s Frankenstein monster of a jock-strap and feel a wave of affection towards the crazy superstitious captain. 

Despite the country of his birth, Zhenya had grown up being taught love is love by his mama. His mama was an astounding woman and had tried to teach both of her sons that having feelings for the same gender was not a crime. ‘Mother Russia is not always right,’ were the words that she had whispered to him the night before he made his great escape from Magnitogorsk. Looking back at how far he had come since coming to America, his mama’s words seemed almost like premonitions.

“I think the reason you’re looking for him now, is part of why you’re always watching him when Sid isn’t looking.” Flower smirked triumphantly at the glare he got in response to his words. “Generally, just because I don’t want to put up with two people hopelessly pining after each other, I’m gonna say this. He stares at you when you’re not looking too, but he isn’t going to make the first move Geno. If you seriously want this, you need to be the one to move.”

Zhenya had lowered his eyes and pointedly sipped at his tea, not willing to reward Flower with a response. As he sipped, Flower’s words played on repeat in his mind, like a video buffering over the same image. He refused to truly believe that the possibility could become a reality, but in his mind he was already planning the perfect way to initiate the moment. He couldn’t help but think about how Sid would be the perfect New Years present. 

“Geno,” Flower’s voice dropped to a low and serious tone as Zhenya grunted in response, ideas for a big party complete with fireworks forming in his head as Flower spoke.  
“Please, don’t hurt him. It would kill him.” Zhenya couldn’t help but notice the cautious tone of Flowers words; it was as if the goalie was trying to indirectly say something else. But the hidden message remained secret as Flower’s face morphed into his customary smile. 

“So how you going to tell our illustrious Captain how you feel?”

\---------

Zhenya drifted back inside, his shoulders hunched, and hands still buried deep in his pockets. A heavy slap to the centre of his back caused Zhenya to jerk up to his normal height. “So did you do it, did it all go to plan? Where’s Sid gone?”

“He ran off,” Zhenya mumbled in response to Flower, hopelessly wishing that he could hide and drink his sorrows away with some of Sergei’s ‘Poison Punch’. He was partying sober for the night; the doctors at the rink had given him some high-strength pain relivers for a niggling pain he had in his knee. Unfortunately, he’d been warned that the medication didn’t mix well with alcohol, leaving him drinking water for the entire evening. 

“What do you mean he ran off? Why didn’t you run after him? It’s what they do in the movies.” Flower stated matter-of-factly, his knowledgeable tone faltering slightly in the delivery as he swayed ever so slightly from side to side. 

“He look sad. Maybe he didn’t want.” Zhenya offered. 

“Of course he wanted- wait did you just say he looked sad.” Flower froze, his eyes widening in a way that Zhenya could only describe as fearful. 

“I kiss him, he pulls back. Think he start crying and then he ran. I not seen him since, maybe he went home?” 

“Fuck Geno, we need to find him right now. I’ll double check here. Can you drive to his and see if he did go home?” Flower panicked, the fear fighting the effects of the alcohol and sobering him. Zhenya couldn’t help but frown in confusion at the dread that was roiling from Flower. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he scrolled quickly down to Sidney’s name in his contacts. Flower’s eyes didn’t leave his as Zhenya pressed dial and held the phone up against his ear to listen. 

‘I’m sorry but this number is not available at this moment in time.’

“Nothing.” Zhenya stated as he lowered the phone. 

“Are you actually kidding, this is Sid we’re talking about He doesn’t even remember he has a phone most of the time. Stop wasting time and go look for him!” Flower shouted, gesturing dramatically with his hands. Zhenya took a step back, wary of the hands flying so near to his face. Raising his hands in surrender to the situation, he barely got a chance to reply as Flower spun around and began racing across the room frantically craning his head to look above the crowd.

 

The bonus of not being able to drink meant that he wasn’t breaking too many laws when he drove the short distance to Sid’s house. The house appeared ominous from the outside, the windows blackened apart from one. Zhenya knocked hesitantly at the front door, before testing the handle when he didn’t receive a response. The door knob twisted in his hand, and the door pushed open. The light from the moon highlighted the hallway and shone onto the stairs. 

“Sid?” Zhenya called from the base of the stairs. Intently listening, Zhenya began to slowly climb them. Every creak of a stair made his heart pound and set his nerves alight. Even in the dark of the night, Zhenya knew his way around Sid’s house, so he walked until he got to the master bedroom. The light coming from the half-open bathroom door illuminated the mess-filled room. The floor was covered in clothes and shoes, and the duvet was half draped across the carpet. Tenderly stepping towards the source of light, Zhenya called Sid’s name once more. 

Pushing the door of the bathroom open Zhenya found a sight that was sure to be a source of nightmares for the rest of his life. The contents of a drawer were scattered across the room, with most of the objects lying in an ever-growing pool of blood. In the centre of the puddle, Sid lay on his side. The blood stretched nearly the length of his upper body, soaking through the white wool of the jumper he’d been wearing. The blood had soaked and spread so that the jumper appeared tie-died. The blood was streaming from four long and deep cuts. On Sid’s left wrist, there sat two horizontal cuts, with another cut more diagonal in angle inching its way up his forearm. His right arm was where the blood was mainly pouring from. One long vertical cut that nearly covered his forearm. 

“No! Sid!” Zhenya screamed as soon as the sight greeted his eyes. He fell onto his knees in the blood, pulling Sid against him. Sid’s head dropped lifelessly at the movement, and only the slight fluttering of his eyelids stopped Zhenya from screaming in sorrow. 

“Open your eyes, Stay with me.” With one blood covered hand, Zhenya scrambled for his phone. The blood clung to the screen as he hastily tapped in the number. 

“I need ambulance. He’s cut himself, there’s too much blood.” Zhenya shouted into the receiver as soon as the call was picked up, rattling off Sid’s address as quickly as he could.  
In his arms, Sidney’s eyes fluttered once more, and Zhenya couldn’t help but think that his chest was moving too slow. He was barely breathing. “No! You’re not allowed to do this. I don’t want to know what it’s like to live without you !”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy! This was meant to be like the midway point of the chapter but @melomedio suggested leaving it here just to really give everyone a heartbreaking heart attack.
> 
> I promise there is going to so much comfort soon. It is not going to be an easy fix for Sid, but everyone is going to be there to love and help him.


	12. Chapter 12

With his eyes closed , he could smell the distinctive scent of strong chemical cleaner. The smell alone told Sidney all that he needed to know, he was in a hospital. Around him, machines beeped steadily, taunting him with their rhythm. Sidney felt his heartrate rise and the monitor react accordingly; everyone must now know.

Sidney flexed his fingers, testing the feel of his body. His arms stung, the slight movement pulling at the inflicted wounds. He dreaded opening his eyes, the temporary blindness allowed him the pretence that nothing had occurred. With his eyes closed, he could still picture the blood chugging down his arms, and he could still feel the emptiness in his body fighting the panic that erupted as soon as the blood had begun to flow down his arm. 

Blinking slowly, the fluorescent overhead light hurt his head as his eyes struggled to adjust. When the light ceased blinding him and the little light floaters faded away, Sidney raised his head from the pillow. His arms were swaddled in sterile white bandages, both wrapped so thickly that their size resembled tree branches more than limbs .

With his head raised, Sidney took the moment to take in the room. The walls were coloured a calming blue-grey, offering a small splash of colour in the sterile, white hospital environment. Geno sat in a chair by his bedside, curled in a position which looked unbelievably uncomfortable for a person of Geno’s height The soft frown on Geno’s face and the slow snuffles of his breathing captivated Sidney’s attention . He didn’t know how long he had been staring at Geno, when a small coughing noise echoed around the room. 

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Flower commented bluntly from the door. He was dressed in the same clothes from the night before, his arms folded across his chest with blank expression on the usually jovial goaltenders face. 

“I’m sorry.” Sidney whispered, unable to find any better words to say. 

Flower slowly pushed himself off the doorframe and walked across the room at a pace that might match a tortoise and finally perched delicately on the edge of the bed next to Sidney’s hip. Sidney watched and waited as Flower glanced sympathetically at Geno as he shifted in the small chair in his sleep. When he turned to look back at Sidney, there were tears forming in his eyes as he choked out, “We almost lost you.” 

“We almost lost you. We were almost too late. The doctors said that if Geno had turned up five minutes later you would have been dead.” Flower continued, the tears now sliding freely down his cheeks. “If me and Geno hadn’t spent so long bickering before he went to yours, maybe he could have got there and stopped you from doing it.”

The guilt Sidney felt increased with every tear that fell from Flower’s face. . The apologies were about to roll off Sidney’s tongue once more, but they were halted as soon as Sidney opened his mouth. “Please don’t apologize, and please don’t feel guilty. If anyone should feel guilty it’s me. I feel like I failed you Sid.” Flower admitted.

Sidney attempted to push his upper body up from the bed with his hand, exhaling deeply as a wince of pain shot up his arm. Switching his weight onto his elbow, Sidney manoeuvred himself upright and tentatively reached forwards, wrapping his thickly bandaged arms around Flower’s waist. His head rested against Flower’s chest and Sidney could feel the tears falling into his hair. That didn’t matter though, as Flower returned the hug, his arms encasing Sidney in a tight embrace as if he was reluctant to every let him go again. Sidney didn’t even realize he was crying too until Flower’s T-shirt began to feel unpleasantly damp against his face. 

As his tears ran freely, Sidney felt like some of the dark weight in his mind was running away with them. He was finally able to admit what he’d never had the courage to say for years. “Flower, I think I need some help.”

\----

There were some topics which Flower blatantly shied away from discussing, simply stating that everything would be explained in a little while as soon as he returned. More tears were shared between them before Flower finally had to leave stating the need for an immediate shower and a Gatorade to kill the remnants of his hangover. With a departing promise that he would bring Vero and Estelle with him upon his return, Flower left Sidney to the sounds of the hospital room. 

The doctor had apparently told Flower that Sidney was a in a private room and there were no immediate plans to have him moved onto a psychiatric ward. This news hit Sidney with a wave of relief, he didn’t want to go there. During Flower’s visit a nurse had entered the room letting out a small sound of surprise at seeing Sidney sat up and socialising. After noting down his heartrate and last blood pressure results, she had made a swift exit after letting him know that the doctor would be around to see him in the next hour for morning rounds. He’d only been out for a few hours and had awoken just before eight in the morning; surprising the medical staff who hadn’t expected him to regain consciousness so quickly

Geno remained asleep sat by his side, and Sidney wanted nothing more than to reach over and touch him. Was he really there after everything that had happened on New Year’s Eve? Flower had said that Geno had found him, and that made shame prickle inside of Sidney. 

The first cut had been like a heroine kick to his system. With the second and third cut he’d hoped to prolong the high, but he’d cut deeper than he had ever done before. The fourth cut had ultimately been his undoing. He had ripped the blade down the length of his arm and rivers of blood began pouring. It wasn’t meant to bleed like that. There was too much blood as the rivers pooled into a vibrant red lake beneath him. The haze from the high of the first cut had fought back against the panic that erupted from the last, forcing away the fear and bringing back the feelings of giving up. He’d felt woozy, the walls swaying in his vision. Lying down on the floor, Sidney had tried to stop the world spinning around him by closing his eyes. That was all he could remember, and he didn’t even want to imagine what Geno must have walked into. 

“любимой?” Geno mumbled hoarsely, rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes. 

“Geno,” Sidney teared up once more, his emotions going haywire, as he struggled to grasp onto the reality of what he’d done.

Geno pushed himself upright in his chair, launching forwards so that his large hands were encasing Sidney’s cheeks just like they had done the night before. “Sid,” Geno breathed in relief, his thumb softly stroking the tears off of Sidney’s cheek. Sidney felt the tears falling quicker, his chest rising as he openly sobbed. Pushing away from the hands on his cheeks, Sidney stretched his face upward out of the touch, burying his head into Geno’s shoulder. Geno’s arms circled around him, as Sidney began to soak another one of his friends’ shirts with tears. 

“Geno, I am so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Sidney sobbed like a broken record, his fingers clawing at the back of Geno’s T-shirt holding him tight. 

“Shh Sid, I here. You here.” Geno hushed, gently rubbing Sidney’s back. He whispered soothing Russian words, that Sidney wished he could understand. “я люблю тебя так много, ты здесь еще.” 

 

Sidney had been forced to pull back from Geno’s embrace when the doctor had arrived, but Geno continued to hold his hand. The doctor’s words flew over his head with Sidney, not able to concentrate on anything more than Geno’s hand holding his own. The doctor’s voice was dull and monotonous lulling him to sleep. He didn’t realize he’d drifted off until he blinked and saw that the doctor was no longer stood at the foot of his bed. The doctor had been replaced with Mario looking down at him; his shirt sleeves rolled up, and the top button undone. From the suit jacket that was placed at his feet, Sidney could just make out the tie that was peeking from the pocket. The hospital room was now filled with some of his favourite people. Geno was once more sat in the chair that he’d claimed as his. Flower had returned, in fresh clothes this time, and was sat on the floor playing quietly with Vero and Estelle. 

“How you doing kid?” Mario asked quietly, gently squeezing Sidney’s foot through the sheets. 

Before Sidney could even respond, Flower called up from the floor, “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry ducon.” The resulting cry of ouch caused the room to snicker as Flower was reprimanded by his wife for his language. 

Sidney smiled at his friends, before asking Mario warily, “They know, don’t they?”

“Both the team and the press know you were admitted to hospital, but we haven’t told either of them why. They might find out themselves, but it wasn’t our place to tell them. It is entirely up to you how we go from here.” Mario answered soothingly in a way only a parents voice can be. 

Sidney accepted the unsubtle touch of Geno’s fingers brushing against his own. Interlocking their fingers together, Sidney felt anchored as he asked his next question. “My parents?”

“I called them before the press conference. Your father was not happy that he wasn’t told sooner. He was even less thrilled when he realised it was because he was not your emergency contact on your medical records.” Mario squeezed his foot once more sympathetically.

Sidney closed his eyes at Mario’s words, he didn’t know where to start with his response. He didn’t know if he should explain why he had made the Lemieux’s his emergency medical contact, or if he should think about how his father reacted. Sidney could readily imagine what his father had probably said, and mentally calculated how long he probably had before his family would come bursting into the hospital room. The other part of his mind imagined the surprise in the Lemieux household at that early morning phone call. ‘We’re calling in regards to Sidney Crosby, he has you listed as his emergency medical contact.’

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have helped.” Mario continued, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke.

“I didn’t want your help,” Sidney admitted croakily. 

“Do you want it now?” The questions continued.

“Yes.” Sidney whispered, “I didn’t want to kill myself. I just felt like everything was crashing all around me and then-”

“Hey, that does not matter right now. All that matters is that you are still here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> любимой – beloved in Russian  
> я люблю тебя так много, ты здесь еще – I love you, you’re here still in Russian  
> Ducon – arsehole in French
> 
> I'm sorry for everything I have put you poor readers through! There is gonna be struggles and fluff and comfort to come I promise!


	13. Chapter 13

With Sidney’s consent and after much discussion, a plan was in place to tell the team the details they needed to know. Geno had been hesitant to join in that part of the discussion, his attention pointedly focused on running his fingers softly up and down Sidney’s bandaged arm. Sidney appreciated the gentle touch, it made his arms feel like they were less on fire. Flower seemed to understand why Geno was silent, even if Sidney didn’t.

When it came to discussing the extent of the injuries, Geno had rose to his feet offering a quick squeeze to Sidney’s hand before exiting the room. Flower had been quick to stand and follow Geno. Sidney was left staring at the shadows in the frosted glass window in the door, watching the outline of his two friends on the other side.

“It’s going to be hard for Geno to talk about your injuries when he was the one who found you.” Vero comforted, her hand resting on top of her small baby bump. Sidney’s skin felt clammy at the thought. He wished that he could detach himself from the small collection of wires and machines surrounding him so that he could follow the Russian and envelop him in a tight embrace.

“I’ll go bring them back in,” Mario offered, his shirt sleeves now rolled up exposing the clean skin of his arms. Sidney didn’t know if he would ever be able to show his arms again. Was his life now going to be resigned to checking the cuffs of his sleeves making sure they didn’t expose his secrets? The floodgates were open now and more worries plagued at Sidney’s thoughts.; Was he going to end up cutting his arms again and again? What if he did and nobody reached him in time to save him from himself?

Tears were prickling in Sidney’s eyes when Mario returned with Flower and Geno in tow. Geno automatically rushed back to his seat by Sidney’s bedside, encasing Sidney in his big arms as Sidney clumsily wiped at his eyes.

“Пожалуйста Не плачь.” Geno whispered, his large hands reaching up to cup Sidney’s cheeks. He gently wiped away any stray remaining tears with his thumbs.

“You do know I don’t understand Russian?” Sidney couldn’t help but smile in response to the huge grin that filled Geno’s face.

“You need to learn. Russian best.” A pointed clearing of a throat stopped Sidney from replying. In the small moment, his focus on Geno had been everything. No one else in the room had existed when he had Geno to block them out.  Mumbling an apology to Mario, Sidney started to miss the soft hands that dropped away from his face, but he had no reason to worry because almost immediately he had Geno’s fingers tracing delicate patterns over the top of his bandages.

 

Mario had barely begun discussing possible plans for Sidney’s return to hockey when shouts echoing down the corridor outside stole the attention of the room. “Where’s my son! Someone tell me where my son is?”

The room collectively inhaled sharply, and Sidney could see the numbers on the heart monitor machine increase as anxiety quickened his pulse. Someone outside must have finally pointed the voice in the right direction, as the door swung open revealing Troy Crosby. His face was almost beetroot in appearance; Sidney could clearly picture the steam that would have been coming out of his ears if they’d been in a cartoon. His mother hovered behind his father, in contrast her face was grey and etched with worry. Her mousy, “Oh Sidney,” was lost in his father’s tremendous shouting.

“What the hell have you done? Did you even stop to think about your family? We got woken up this morning to a phone call saying that you’d tried to kill yourself-”

“Troy, maybe we should talk a little more civilly.” Mario attempted to quieten Troy Crosby; the entire ward was probably able to hear the man’s words.The thought was of everyone outside of the room being able to hear the shouts were not welcome to Sidney, and it was certainly not needed for the other patients.

“Were you just trying to do one better? Someone else comes out as gay to the media, so you thought you would trump them and be the first player to commit suicide?”

Sidney couldn’t stop his tears from falling and his shoulders shook as he sobbed. His head was down, and all he wanted to do was bring his knees up to chest and wrap his arms around himself. The words spitting from his fathers’ lips were becoming nastier with every passing second. He was vaguely aware of the door closing behind his parents, but that did nothing to temper the volume of his father’s speech. The voice in Sidney’s head had joined in the screaming, trying to out shout his father. The words in his head acted like a lead vocalist amongst the noise. ‘ _Look at all of this stress that you’ve caused people. If only you’d done it right, they wouldn’t have to deal with all of this. Find a blade.’_

“Were you just trying to get attention or something?” Troy continued, unresponsive to the sobs that were coming from his son. His frown deepened as he watched Geno perch on the bed next to Sidney’s hip. Sidney let himself be pulled so that his head was buried against Geno’s chest. The other man’s body acted as a shield against his father, protecting him from the glares, the hurtful words and hiding the tears.

“игнорировать его, любимой.” Geno cooed quietly, as the voices of the room rose up in union against Sidney’s father.

“Troy, you are beyond out of line.” Mario snapped.

“Vous Enculé!”

It was Vero who shocked Troy into silence, as she rose slowly from the floor leaving Estelle snoozing unaffected to the shouting on a small pile of coats. Squaring up in front of Troy Crosby, her small pregnant belly protruding out in front of her. “How fucking dare you! That is your son in that bed. That is your son, who last night felt like he had no other option than to hurt himself, and you’re stood there accusing him of doing it for attention. What kind of fucking father are you? Do you even care about how close you were to losing him!”

Flower reached slowly out towards his wife, standing steady as she batted his hands away. “No, he is being a fucking prick. I am not stopping until he knows it.” Vero snapped, the rage and turbulent pregnancy hormones playing an attributing factor to the mascara that was now running down her cheeks.

“I think its best you leave. Go book yourself into a hotel, and maybe come back when you’re able to act like a respectable human being.” Mario fumed, his fists clenched as he joined the Fleury’s in front of Troy. The three of them formed a shield protecting Sidney from sight. Behind Troy, Trina Crosby sobbed uncontrollably, as she desperately tried to look around the four people in front of her. Her attempts were failures, and she reluctantly gave up when Troy spun on the spot and stepped around her exiting the room.

“Please tell Sidney I love him. I’ll try to calm Troy down. Maybe we could come back tomorrow?” Trina tearfully offered as she hesitated at the open doorway to the room.

“Maybe wait until Sidney calls before you come back.” Mario retorted, his patience was on thin ice. He had secretly thought for years that the Crosby’s were far from being great parents, and today had been the icing on that idea. Troy Crosby was a bully, he’d never had Sidney’s skill with hockey, and he’d spent years living vicariously through his son. Trina was a wet blanket of a woman, constantly trying to appease her husband and his temper.  Mario dreaded to think of the outcome if she was one day forced to choose between her son and her husband. Mario huffed in disbelief as he watched the woman simply nod in response to his words and follow her husband down the hall away from the hospital room.

In the room, Flower wrapped Vero in an embrace, whispering soothingly to her in French in attempt to calm her down. Geno and Sidney shifted so that they were both lying on the hospital bed facing each other. The bed was small, in no way big enough for two hockey places to fit comfortably; Geno was hanging half off the edge, curled protectively around Sidney. Sidney had his back pressed against the railings, his bandaged arms clutching at one of Geno’s arms.  Mario looked protectively over the two of them, promising himself that he would be there for Sidney even if his parents weren’t.

 

\-----

The story broke barely twelve hours after the press conference. The leading headline was unmissable and grabbed the attention of the world.

** The suicidal truth of being the face of a franchise. **

Sidney Crosby rushed to hospital with an apparent suicide attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Пожалуйста Не плачь -Please don’t cry  
> игнорировать его, любимой - Ignore him, beloved  
> Vous Enculé – you motherfucker 
> 
>  
> 
> Big appreciation for @melomedio for editing my rambles into something which makes sense, and for putting up with my impatience!


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

_‘Sidney Crosby is the face of a franchise and the most recognisable man in the NHL. How big a factor did his fame play in light of this recent event?_

“Hey, turn that shit off.” Flower snapped, slapping Rusty around the back of his head. Rusty had the sense to look apologetic as he scrambled to turn off his phone. The rest of the team shifted uncomfortably, some scuttling away from Rusty, having been caught watching over his shoulder. Flower waited with his hands on his hips, watching Rusty like a hawk until the offending phone was no longer in sight.

Behind Flower, Mario stood next to Mike Sullivan. The three of them looked like they hadn’t slept for a week, and Flower genuinely felt like he hadn’t. After leaving the hospital the night before, Flower had been unable to find sleep. He had spent the entire night tossing and turning, alternating between staring at the ceiling and trying to go to sleep. He couldn’t get his mind to switch off, and all he could think about was Sid lying in that hospital bed. Flower knew that Geno was staying in the hospital room with Sid, but that knowledge didn’t put his mind at ease.

“Listen up guys, I know you’ve all seen the news, and I know we have a game tonight, so I just wanted to get everyone on the same page.” Mario began, the attention of the room fixated on him. “Sidney wanted you guys to know that he is doing as well as can be expected. We’re hoping that the doctors will release him in the next couple of days.”

From the stalls, some players were peaking around the room, hoping that someone else would ask a question. No one wanted to be the one to speak first. Flower could also see the moment that every single one of his teammates realised that Sid’s stall wasn’t the only one that sat empty.

“Geno is currently with him, and we do not know if he will be on the roster tonight.” Mario continued, undisturbed by the whispers that were beginning. “I hope you guys all know that we stand together in this, and that includes when it comes to the media’s questions tonight. They will be ruthless, no matter how hard we try to police them. If anyone wants to talk with Jenn, we can provide some simple answers. Additionally, if anyone ever needs to talk, about anything, please know my door is always open. I don’t want any of you to ever feel like you have no one you can turn to.”

“That goes for my door as well. We are more than just a team here. Tonight, I want you all to go out there and win this for Sid.” Sully concluded, stepping forwards he stood in the centre of the locker room.  He looked around the room, slowly taking in every player as he went back to business, “Why haven’t we all got our skates on yet. Everyone on the ice in five.”

 

\---

Every single time Zhenya closed his eyes, all he could see was the blood covered bathroom or the flashing blue lights of the ambulance. The sound of the sirens still rang in his ears, combining with the steady beeping of the machines in Sid’s room. Sid slept fitfully in the bed beside him, the sterile bandages blindingly white against the sheets. Zhenya couldn’t believe that the bandages hid deep cuts underneath them.

When Flower and Mario had pushed him from the hospital room earlier that afternoon, Zhenya realized the state that he was in. He was still dressed in the clothes from the night before; the knees and cuffs of his jeans were brown with dried blood. Zhenya’s shirt was stained worse than his jeans, the original design barely recognisable.  He understood why they’d sent him to go home and get changed. Armed with Flower’s car keys, Zhenya carefully drove back towards his house.  The streets merged together in a blur as he drove, up until he reached Sid’s street. Slowing the speed of his car down to a crawl, Zhenya’s attention was drawn to the Sid’s house. Sid would need fresh clothes and sleepwear as well; his had been removed and sealed in a biohazard bag at the hospital.  

The front door which he was sure he had left wide open, now stood closed. Zhenya didn’t realize he had stopped until he had put the parking brake on and got out the car. Fingering Flower’s car keys, Zhenya played with one of the house keys on the keychain; he had noticed in when he had initially been handed the keys, the small silver key with Sid’s name written on it in permanent marker. Testing the handle to the front door, the door swung open in front of him. Maybe he had shut it behind him the night before after all. As he walked into the house, the memories of the night before played on repeat in his mind. Standing in the hallway in Sid’s house, Zhenya could see the paramedics carrying an unresponsive Sid on a stretcher out of the front door, his arms swaddled in bandages.

Going up the stairs, Zhenya walked the familiar steps to Sid’s bedroom. It was like the twilight zone, Zhenya felt the dread building in his stomach. He needed to check that Sid wasn’t in the bathroom. He knew that Sid was safe and being watched in his hospital room, but that did nothing to ease the anxiety.

There was a trail of bloody footprints from the bedroom to the bathroom. Zhenya knew that when he walked into the bathroom, he would find the trail ending in a pool of blood. Even the knowledge of what he would see did nothing to ease the rush of emotion he felt as he pushed open the door revealing the half dried, half tacky puddle on the bathroom floor. The blood had spread since the night before, with footsteps and droplets spreading out from the pool. Standing and staring at the dark red liquid, Zhenya could still hear the sounds of the 911 operator in his ear.

“Sir, can you tell me the extent of his injuries.”

“The cuts, he’s bleeding so much from his arm.” Zhenya had cried, his phone now on loudspeaker to the room.

“Have you got a belt or anything that you can use as a tourniquet?” The aggravatingly calm voice of the woman on the other side of the phone had grated on frazzled nerves.

“I have belt,” Zhenya snapped as he tapped Sid’s cheek when eyelids fluttered closed.

“Tie it above the injury, as tight as possible. The ambulance will be there in two minutes.” Zhenya snatched the belt off, wrapping it tightly around the top of Sid’s right arm. His hands were stained red, as he grabbed at towels to place pressure on the wounds. Minutes dwindled away, with Sid cradled against his chest, the towels doing little more than changing colour in his hand. He had been so focused on holding Sid in his arms trying to stem the flow that he had jumped when the two paramedics had come bursting into the room. Zhenya had been gently pushed to the side as they moved to work over Sid’s semi-conscious form.

Blood stained and exhausted, Zhenya found himself standing where he had been pushed to the night before, watching his memory play out on repeat. Shaking himself from his own thoughts, Zhenya grimaced at the small square of silver that was still shining in the middle of the blood. Kneeling once again in the mess, Zhenya tenderly picked up the small blade. He twirled it between his fingers, examining the sharp edges, before throwing it into a wastebasket. Grabbing another towel from the rack, Zhenya tried to mop up the tacky puddle, grabbing more towels every time one became too stained.

By the time he was finished, what remained of the blood was a small outline glaring up from the white tiles. The wastebasket was now overflowing with destroyed towels, and Zhenya promised himself that he would replace them for Sid. His own clothes were the next to be thrown into the rubbish; he had no desire to ever wear the memories of that night again.

This was not how Zhenya had imagined his first time standing naked in Sid’s bathroom, but he saw no point in returning to his own house when he could simply shower here. He was willing to bet that he would be able to find a pair of lounge pants or shorts that fit him even if they might be a little short in the leg. Outside of press events, Sid was someone whom liked to wear clothes which were enormous on his frame. Zhenya planned to grab a small bagful of clothes for Sid and to act bashful if Sid realized that Zhenya was wearing his clothes.

 

When Zhenya returned to the hospital, Flower and Mario looked relieved to see him clean. The blush on Sid’s face had rivalled his own, straight away the captain had noticed that he was sporting clothes stolen from his own closet. The bag of clothes had stayed unmentioned by his side until the Fleury’s and Mario had offered their goodbyes for the night. Upon the door closing behind them, Zhenya had slowly brought the bag up to rest on the bed.

“You went back to my house?” Sid questioned, playing with the zip on the bag as he spoke.

“I brought these for you. Hospital gown not very nice.” Zhenya admitted, scratching the back of his neck as Sid opened the bag and began poking through the contents. He had been amused to find a variety of t-shirts with different numbers on them; there were 29’s mixed with 58’s, 87’s and a few 71’s that had pinched at Zhenya’s heart strings. “You want me to go outside so you can get changed?”

“I’m not allowed to be left on my own at the moment,” Sid whispered after a few moments of silence. Sid refused to meet Zhenya’s eyes as he pulled a large black hoodie from the bag, clutching it against his chest. “It’s either you or a nurse.”

“I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hands, who else wants to hug both of these boys!


	15. Chapter 15

Sidney wanted to claw at the bandages covering his arms, every single small movement made the skin underneath the gauze feel as if it was on fire. The white of the bandages was so bright against his skin – a perfect contrast with the black hoodie that Geno had brought for him the day before. Thoughts of Geno pulled at his heartstrings. Geno had stayed with him. The clothes that Geno had brought for Sid, made a small smile twitch into existence when he noticed the 71 or 87 emblazoned on nearly every piece of clothing.

With inquisitive eyes and delicate hands, Geno untied the back of the hospital gown, ignoring the blush that burnt Sidney’s face. He had politely turned around as Sidney slipped the polyester fabric off his shoulders, and quickly stood up to pull a pair of soft pyjama bottoms up to maintain the remnants of his dignity. Once he’d ensured that his modesty was as much in tact as it could be, Sidney tugged on the waistband of his pyjamas, shifting it higher to hide the mass of scars that peaked out from his hips.

There were tinges of dried blood that had stained through layers of clothes, painting the skin underneath. Sidney prodded at one of the stains, grimacing as the blood flaked slightly at the touch.

“Geno, can you grab a wet cloth from the bathroom?”

“What, Sid want a sponge bath?” Geno let out a joking huff, shaking his head at the wall in front of him. Sidney resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the back of the Russians head, settling for wadding his discarded hospital gown into a ball and throwing it. The gown flew way off mark, sailing over Geno’s shoulder and hitting the wall. Geno jolted in surprise, twisting his head to glance over his shoulder. Sidney resisted the urge to wrap his arms around his chest in a vague attempt at covering himself up. The only person who had seen him in this stage of undress in the last decade was Flower. Even when he was living with the Lemieux’s, he had only ever joined in swimming with the kids if he was wearing a shirt. Geno stared at Sidney. His eyes frozen in an unreadable look.  That made Sidney want to forget about the dried blood and throw the hoodie over his head.

Sidney let his gaze drop down to the floor, the weight of Geno’s stare was too heavy for him to comprehend.

“Stay there, I’ll go get. Can still see you from door.”

Geno’s words sounded breathy, leaving Sidney with a pit of anxiety in his stomach. Were some of his other scars and cuts visible? Had he not pulled the pants up high enough on his hips? Sid shot a quick glimpse over at Geno, who true to his words was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, stretching to reach the sink without moving further into the small room. He hastily looked down at his hips, not seeing any white or red lines peaking out from underneath the fabric.

Sidney allowed himself to wonder if Geno’s reaction wasn’t caused by seeing the scars or if he was appreciating seeing Sidney unclothed. The last few weeks were not only reflected on his arms, his ribs were far more visible than they should have been, and his stomach was slightly concaved. Maybe it wasn’t an appreciative look, maybe it was Geno realising that a few cuts on his arms were the tip of the mental iceberg that was Sidney Crosby.

“Now don’t get used to this, just cause you number one don’t mean you getting special attention.” Geno had schooled his expression to neutral by the time he walked back to stand in front of Sidney. The facecloth he carried in his large hands had left little droplets of water making a pathway back towards the bathroom. Sidney inhaled sharply at the softness of the cloth as Geno slowly scrubbed the warm fabric over the freckled spots on his skin. Water trickled down his torso onto the waistband of his pants, but Sidney  was oblivious to the wet patches that grew as he let himself enjoy the feel of Geno’s large hand on his hip, holding him in place as Geno worked to find every dried stain. Stray fingers poked at the waist of the pants, a silent question that rung out in the space between them.

“No,” Sidney whispered, knowing the question that was hidden in Geno’s deep brown eyes. He was asking to check the skin underneath the pants, wanting to make sure that there were no more spots of blood. Sidney knew that his answer, told Geno the truth though. There were marks there, hidden underneath the fabric. Sidney fought the urge to turn away, watching as Geno’s eyes dropped down to the waistband. A frown creased Geno’s forehead, Sidney seeing the exact moment when realisation and understanding flashed across his face.

“Okay, I get rid of this. You get dressed.” Geno dropped a quick kiss to the top of Sidney’s head, before walking back towards the bathroom. Sidney stared at his retreating form before pulling the hoodie over his head. Rolling the sleeves of the hoodie up, Sidney sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the white wall.

 

\---

Nathalie had taken Geno’s designated seat by Sidney’s bedside the following evening. During his morning visit, Mario mentioned in passing that he didn’t know if Geno was on the roster for that evening’s game because of the Russian’s desire to stay with Sidney.

After hearing this, Sidney had shot daggers at Geno as soon as he’d stepped back into the hospital room.

“You are dressing tonight, and you are going to put the puck behind Greiss so many times that he’d going to be pissed.” Sidney insisted, pointedly ignoring the dramatic eye roll that Geno rewarded him in response.

“You know better than to jinx.” Geno retorted, neither of them noticing the affectionate shake of the head that Mario gave them both. “Besides, don’t want to leave you here with no one.” The no-one meant no one they knew. Sidney hadn’t been allowed to use the bathroom on his own, he’d refused to allowed Geno to be in there with him, and instead had to suffer in silent embarrassment as a nurse stood behind what equated to a shower curtain as he used the toilet.

“I won’t be on my own, I’ll get Vero to come or something.”

“That would mess with Estelle’s bedtime.” Geno pointed out stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest as he dared Sidney to try and make him change his mind.

“Nathalie would love to come and see you Sid, she wanted to ask before she came. I’ve got to be at the arena tonight to help deal with the press so I’m sure she’d appreciate having some company.” Mario suggested, his offer easing the argument that was threatening to boil between his two players.

 

Sidney tried to hide the surprised look threatening to . Nathalie had been a second mother to him, just like Mario had been a second father. The idea that she wanted to wait for his invite instead of overwhelming him with too many people straight away, brought up the overwhelming urge to start crying.

“Yes please,” Sidney managed to choke out, before Mario reached around Geno to wrap his arms around Sidney. Digging his fingers into Mario’s shoulders, Sidney was halfway to mumbling an apology for crying into his shirt, before he giggled at Mario’s next words.

“She’s going to end up feeding you so much, we’re going to need a crane to get you out of this bed.”

 

True to Mario’s words, Nathalie had turned up at three in the afternoon. Her normally perfect blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she was dressed in her lazy house clothes. Bags swung off her arms, and her hands juggled three pizza boxes. With her arrival, Geno reluctantly moved to stand from his chair. A click of fingers and a pointed finger made Geno slowly sink back down into the seat as Nathalie handed two of the pizza boxes to Mario and Sidney. Leaving the other resting on the foot of the bed, she dug through one of the bags in her hands until she pulled out a large Tupperware container full of pasta, diced chicken and vegetables. Forcing the container into Geno’s hands, she pointed at both the two younger men. “Eat.”

 

It was the second intermission; the Penguins were 5-1 against the Islanders, and Geno had two goals and an assist. Nathalie had curled herself up in Geno’s chair next to Sidney’s bedside, and between them they had made a dent in the piles of food that she had continued to pull out of the bags she had brought in earlier. Whenever a reporter had made a comment or mentioned Sidney, she reached over and squeezed his hand. Sidney sat crossed legged, on the top of the sheets, nursing a plastic container full of lemon cheesecake, as Natalie gently probed. “Have you heard anything back from your family?”

Stabbing the delicious and soft meringue that coated the top of the cheesecake with his fork, Sidney admitted, “No. I think they’ve probably gone back home. I haven’t heard anything from Taylor though. She was in Europe with some of her teammates, and she’d said before she left that she wasn’t going to have any internet.”

“Do you think she knows, and just can’t get back home?” Nathalie asked soothing in her tone as she contemplated her own slice of cheesecake. She couldn’t even begin to imagine not telling one of her own children if something had happened to one of the others; and she certainly could never imagine leaving her child alone in their time of need.

“I don’t know,” Sidney worried his lip between his teeth.

“I will try to call her when I get home later, and if she wants to come home earlier than she’d planned, we will sort that for her as well.” Nathalie held a soft spot for both Crosby children in her heart. How couldn’t she? She had the joy of looking after Sidney for five years and he was the politest young man that she had ever met. He had happily helped with the chores around the house and looked after her younger children when he first came to live with them all. He was the older brother that her four children had always wanted. Taylor had come as part of the equation and was as lovely a person as her older brother. Taylor was close in age to Natalie’s children and they had all formed quick friendships in Sidney’s first few years on the Penguins. Even now, it was normal for Taylor to join Sidney at the Lemieux household for dinner when she was in town.

Sidney nodded in agreement to Nathalie’s plan, hoping with all his heart that the only reason Taylor hadn’t turned up yet was because she simply wasn’t aware he was in hospital. He didn’t want to hurt himself by thinking of any other reason why he hadn’t heard from her yet.

The countdown clock till the third period continued ticking by for a few more minutes before Nathalie sighed softly. “I don’t know if they’ve mentioned it to you yet, but I want you to know. The hospital isn’t willing to release you just yet, based on certain circumstances.”

Sidney frowned, raising his head from his dessert. “What circumstances?” He wasn’t surprised that the hospital hadn’t told him this yet and he wasn’t even surprised that they had told Mario and Nathalie. They were on his medical forms as his emergency contacts, and they were each listed as one of his power of attorneys.

“They don’t want you to be let out of here and go straight back to living on your own. Dr McGraw, worries that it might lead to another incident.”

Dr McGraw, was the therapist that the hospital had appointed to Sidney. He had met her once, when she came to introduce herself and have a brief chat. She had stepped into the room, and it had been like a firework of colour had been set off. A floating red skirt hugged wide hips, and lavender curls fell past her shoulders, a wide and honest smile filling her face as she asked him questions. He knew that she had probably been psychoanalysing him with everything that he said, but in that initial meeting he had been feeling too worn out from thoughts of his parents to truly bring himself to care. She seemed nice though and hadn’t refused or made any comments when Sidney had asked if Geno could stay with him throughout their talk.

“How long does she want me to stay here?” Sidney asked, wondering how long it would take for him to get sick of seeing the same four walls. He’d already been in here for four days. Another four days, and he’d probably end up climbing the four walls like a spider in his own imagined frustration.

“She doesn’t want you to stay here either,” replied Natalie. “She thinks it would be a good idea for you to live where someone can be there with you. You’re more than welcome to come back to your old room with us or if you’d prefer, I know Vero and Marc are happy for you to live with them as well.” Nathalie squeezed his hand once more before the tv screen in the room was once more focusing on centre ice. “Just have a think about it, we are all here for you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Gasp of breath- It's been updated!


	16. Chapter 16

When Geno returned to the hospital, it was nearly midnight. Sidney had his suspicions that Geno would come back any press obligations, but it was nice for his suspicions to be confirmed. Nathalie patted Sidney’s bandaged wrist, delicately rising from the chair as the door opened. Sidney and Geno watched silently as she gathered up the various food bags and containers, “Don’t forget to get some sleep you two, and remember what we talked about Sidney.”

Sidney nodded in response, sighing contently as Natalie left a farewell kiss on his forehead.  She turned to hug Geno and he happily accepted the parting embrace, sagging slightly into the touch. Exhaustion was catching up with Geno quickly, and Sidney felt guilty knowing that he was the thing stopping Geno going home to a proper bed.

“You think too loud,” Geno grumbled, falling into the chair by Sidney’s bedside. The tie that he’d worn from the rink was tucked into the breast pocket of his suit, and up-close Sidney could see the dark circles under Geno’s eyes. Sidney stretched his hand across Geno’s face, slowly stroking the fragile skin there, enjoying the way that Geno hummed in appreciation and nuzzled into his hand. “Won for you.”

Sidney melted at the words, “Come on, you can’t sleep on that chair. You’ll feel horrible tomorrow morning.”

“Not leaving Sid.”

“I wasn’t asking you to, we could try and share the bed.” Sidney blushed at the suggestion. The hospital bed was slim, there would be barely an inch between them if they were to share. They had both lied down on it before, their noses touching as they held one another tightly to stop the other falling off the edge. Sidney watched the rise of Geno’s eyebrows as his words sunk in.

“Да.”

That was one of the few Russian words that Sidney knew. Sidney shuffled to the edge of the bed, showing Geno that there was room for him to squeeze in. Geno rose up from the little chair, contorting his shoulders in an effort to crack his back. Sidney stamped down the flush of heat that soared through his body as he watched Geno peel his suit jacket off his wide shoulders. Geno threw the jacket onto the unoccupied chair, and Sidney diverted his eyes with a blush when Geno began undoing the buttons on his shirt. The soft crinkle of fabric, and the shuffling of feet convinced Sidney to glance up. Geno stood bare chested, his body on show, the muscles in his arms rippling as he worked at his belt buckle. Sidney’s breath caught in his throat as he bit back the groan that threatened to escape. Geno was going to be the death of him.

“G-”

“I wear pants любимой,” Geno grinned.

“You know I don’t know that word,” Sidney smiled with a shake of his head. He twisted his arms around in his lap, running his fingers along the edges of the bandages. The nurse had come in earlier when Nathalie was with him; they wanted to change the bandages tomorrow and check on the healing progress before they let him go. It would be the first time Sidney would get to see the real extent of what he did to himself. He was worried that the sight of the new marks on his skin would make him ache to leave another deep and devastating mark on his arms.

Looking at Sidney, Geno caught his hand with his own, interlocking their fingers together and offering a short squeeze. Perched on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but boxers, he promised, “I teach you, Russian best.”

“Teach me that word first.” Sidney had heard it fall from Geno’s lips before, always said in the sweetest and most affectionate voice. He hoped that it meant something special.

“Li-bee-moy,” Geno slowly enunciated the word for Sidney, correcting the attempts that Sidney made to parrot it until he got it right.

“любимой, was that right?” Sidney asked enthusiastically.

“Perfect,” Geno smiles, his fingers tracing small shapes on the back of Sidney’s hands.

“You going to tell me what it means now?”

Geno remained silent, shuffling around until he was lying down on the cramped hospital bed. He pulled at the sheets until Sidney got the hint and shuffled underneath the blankets, pulling them up so that they covered them both. As predicted, the space between them was practically non-existent so Sidney could see every aspect of Geno’s face. The dark stubble that covered his chin and his upper lip, the small crease in the middle of his forehead, the purple shadows under his eyes and every single eyelash that framed them. Geno’s arm was thrown over the top of Sidney’s hip, his hand splayed out across the scar tissue covered by bedsheets. Sidney remembered all those months ago when Geno had seen the bandage on his hip in the kitchen. He wondered if Geno remembered it too.

“It means beloved.” Geno whispered into the inch of air between them, pressing a kiss against Sidney’s forehead. Sidney’s eyes fluttered closed, as a shaky breath escaped his lips.

 

The next day Geno was replaced with Vero; despite the win from the night before Coach wanted everyone at practise in the morning. The nurse who came in to deliver food in the morning had been met with the sight of the two men curled around each other in the small bed. Sidney was still fully dressed, but the sheets had been pushed down to their hips during the night, exposing Geno’s bare chest. After Geno forced him to eat all the breakfast on the tray, Sidney had stayed sat in the bed watching as Geno redressed in his suit from the night before. The Russian word for beloved still hung unspoken in the air between them from the night before.

Geno placed a parting kiss on the top of Sidney’s head, rubbing the slightly greasy locks of hair before turning to hug Vero in a combined greeting and goodbye. Vero had turned up just after nine in the morning, providing Geno with enough time to drive to the rink before practise started. Her lips remained pursed until the door swung closed behind the retreating Russian.

“That’s a new development.” She simply stated with a knowing smirk, dropping into the chair and throwing her feet up onto the bed. “How long till Marc threatens him if he hurts you.”

“Where’s Estelle?” Sidney attempted to change subject, poking at a sequin which was in the process of unthreading on Vero’s shoes.

“At day-care, don’t change the subject. Sid are you sure this is a good idea?”

Sidney felt heavy at the concern in her voice, “I don’t know, but I want it so badly.”

“Ok, just be careful. We all love you, and I want you to always remember that.” Vero wiped at the corners of her eyes as she laughed shakily, “Fucking pregnancy hormones. This is not meant to be a cry moment.” Sidney joined in with her laughter, reaching to gently squeeze her leg in a comforting manner.

 

Dr McGraw stood by Sidney’s side as another doctor slowly unravelled the bandages circling both of his arms. Vero perched on the edge of the bed next to him, her hand squeezing his knee almost painfully as layer upon layer was removed. The last few layers were stained with dry blood which had seeped through the dressing pads, and as they were pulled off, Sidney could see the maroon top of the pad.

Glancing up quickly, Sidney noted the tight pressed expression on the doctor’s face. He dropped his eyes back down to his arms as the doctor pulled back the first dressing, fighting a wince as the dressing pulled at the skin sticking to the underneath.

For the first time since that night, Sidney looked down at the three cuts on his left arm. They were no longer gaping open and leaking blood, they were now three neatly stitched lines. The skin around each cut was pink and raised, the doctor carefully inspected each one with gentle prods and close looks. He wiped the arm down, applying fresh bandages and dressings before he turned to Sidney’s right arm.

Pulling the dressing back was more difficult the second time and when the skin underneath was revealed Sidney couldn’t help but stare in morbid fascination at the damage. Like with his left arm, the cut was pink and raised, but you could see how much more work he’d had to have done to bandage this cut. The long line contained almost double the stitches that had held the other ones closed, as if the doctors had to fight to stop the skin from splitting back apart.

“Well they’re healing well. No signs of infection which is always good.” The doctor announced, blocking Sidney’s view of the line of stitches as he placed a fresh dressing over the wound. “The stitches will dissolve in about a week, so you won’t need to have them removed.”

“Now you know they’re going to leave a large amount of scar tissue, there is really nothing that can stop that from occurring.” Dr McGraw continued, as the other doctor began with wrapping fresh bandages around the dressing on the right arm once more. Sidney nodded in acknowledgement, he had his share of scars and he knew that a few neat stitches weren’t going to stop the scar tissue from forming.

“Sidney, I hate to be blunt, but are you going to do it again?” Dr McGraw asked. Vero’s hand on Sidney’s knee squeezed down so painfully that Sidney had to stop himself from swearing. He could sense the rage that Vero was sending the other woman and patted her gently on the hand in an attempt to calm her.

“I can’t say that I won’t.” Sidney honestly said, wincing at the loud inhale Vero made at his words. He had to be honest with himself though. At the moment, he was in a controlled environment where he’d never been left alone to deal with his own thoughts. Having someone around him constantly for the last few days was not a true representation of the real world. Sidney knew that he couldn’t have someone with him every second of the day to distract him from the demons in his head. The only reason he hadn’t felt the urge to grab for a blade, was because he was being kept distracted by others. Sidney briefly wondered if this method was going to set him up for failure. He was invited back to live with the Lemieux’s, but how was that going to stop him from retreating into himself whenever he closed the bedroom door for the night.

“Thank you for being honest. It is very rare. Most of my patients tell me what they think I want to hear. If you’d said ‘No, I will never hurt myself again,’ I would’ve known that you were lying to me.” Dr McGraw smiled, running her fingers down the ends of her lavender curls. “Now I am happy to sign the papers that will let you out, but I want to continue seeing you at least once a week. We will work around your schedule for that, and I’ll give you my number so you can contact me if you need to at any point.” Sidney nodded at her words, squeezing Vero’s hand when she slipped her delicate fingers between his. He half tuned out the room, sitting stunned as the other doctor began running through the care process for looking after his wounds.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Да- yes in Russian  
> любимой – beloved in Russian
> 
> This story has not been abandoned, it just takes me time to get into the right headspace to work on these two darling boys. I will no doubt be inspired if I can force myself to stay awake, (and find a good site to watch from) for the game tonight. I miss being in America, where games were at reasonable times in the evening.


	17. Chapter 17

Sidney felt weird as he tugged on his shoes for the first time in days. Geno had brought him a large selection of clothes, but no jeans, leaving Sidney with no other choice but to wear sweatpants with Chelsea boots. The rest of his clean clothes were folded neatly in the overnight bag that Geno had brought for him. In preparation for his discharge from the hospital, a nurse had handed him a plastic biohazard bag containing the clothes that he’d been brought in wearing. His boots were the only article of clothing from New Years Eve that hadn’t been thoroughly stained.

Sidney had recoiled when he saw the luminescent yellow biohazard bag. He’d rather have had the hospital destroy everything instead of giving it back to him. The white jumper he’d worn was now half brown stained with dried blood, and his jeans were blackened.

Sidney sat perched on the edge of the bed, his bandages hidden underneath a hoodie with the number 29 on his breast. Gone was the searing heat that had left him feeling like a burn victim, replaced with an insatiable itch that had him wanting to claw at his arms.

The new bandages were not as bulky as the previous ones, the excessive padding no longer needed as the wounds were no longer bleeding. Now only a light bandage was wrapped around each arm to minimise the risk of infection and prevent the urge to pick at the healing scabs.

 His discharge papers were piled on top of the overnight bag, freshly signed by his doctor. Sidney both ached for and feared his imminent release from the hospital. He was safe in the hospital; safe from himself and from the press that were still hounding for more information. Outside of the four walls of his hospital room, he was going to have face himself and everyone else.

The team had passed along kind messages through Flower and Geno, but Sidney was still nervous about seeing them again. The press was anxious for gossip, and the reporters that hadn’t liked him before probably loved speculating about him now. Mario had been running interference with Pat, trying to control the media as much as they could in this situation.

Mario had told them that they were trying to block any articles which they considered slanderous, or malicious. He hadn’t given Sidney a number, but he could imagine that there were enough.

“You ready to go?” Mario asked, as he stepped into the room pushing a wheelchair through the door. Sidney grimaced at the sight, but he knew that it was unavoidable.

“Yeh, what’s it’s like out there?” Sidney replied curiously as he reluctantly shifted off the bed and onto the awaiting wheelchair. He clutched his bag to his chest, and carefully slipped his discharge papers into one of its side pockets.

Mario sighed as he spun the chair around and began pushing it from the room. Sidney glanced over his shoulder at the room, wondering if it would be the last time he would ever see it. “It’s manic, there is a couple of dozen out there. None of them have been able to get past reception though, and there are double that many people at the arena. Only a few have been stupid enough to try camping outside the house.”

Sidney nodded at the words, fingers clutching at the sleeves of the hoodie, pulling the material down to cover the palms of his hands. The slow walk down the corridor made him irrationally feel like he was on display. The corridors were flowing with nurses and patients, and he knew that none of them were really paying attention to him, but it still pinched at his anxiety. Mario rolled him into an empty elevator, the silence eating away at them as they descended to the ground floor. The elevator light flashed on the number six when Mario reassured him, “It will all be okay. We’ll leave the wheelchair in the reception area and Nathalie will be waiting in the car.”

“Sounds so easy,” Sidney sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. His skin felt grimy to touch because he hadn’t wanted to suffer the indignity of showering with someone else in the room. Going to the toilet with a nurse on the other side of the curtain had been humiliating enough, but it was a necessity.

Mario’s hand squeezed his shoulder, “It won’t be, but once we’re through we can go home and not have to deal with it.”

The elevator dinged as the doors opened onto the ground floor. The reception was manic, but in a way that showed there was some organisation in the chaos. People were walking as if they were on a mission, determined to get to where they needed to be whilst doctors and healthcare workers weaved their way through the crowds. Sidney was happy to ditch the wheelchair as soon as they left the elevator, he pulled the hood of his jacket up as they walked towards the entrance. He could see the crowds of reporters through the glass windows as they approached and Sidney knew that he had no chance of hiding his identity with a hood when he was walking out of the hospital with Mario Lemieux at his side.

The glass door opened automatically at their approach and the sea of reporters began shouting questions at them as camera bulbs flashed in their faces. Sidney felt like his senses were being overloaded as he was guided to the waiting car by Mario’s hand on his shoulder. Sidney kept his head to the ground, trying to ignore the words they shouted at him from all angles. He was glad that it was Mario there, he dreaded to think what would happen if it was Geno who was there pushing his way through the crowds. Sidney knew that Geno would have gotten angry, and that would undoubtedly have made the situation ten times worse.

Mario ushered him into the backseat of the car, neither of them saying a word to the reporters as they hounded them for answers and soundbites. The cameras were pressed against the windows of the car, the flashes blinding even through the tinted glass. Nathalie started driving as soon as the door closed, creeping forwards as she fought to path a clear path through the crowd.  Sidney relaxed into the seat as the car was manoeuvred out of the carpark.

 

* * *

 

The Lemieux house was unchanged; it looked large and imposing from the exterior, but the inside was as homely ever. The hallway next to the front door still had stray shoes scattered across the floor, and coats overflowed off the pegs that hung off the wall. The dark wood floor felt cold under his feet as Sidney kicked off his shoes. He purposefully lined them up neatly on one of the shoe racks, smiling at the huff of laughter that came from Nathalie as she kicked her own shoes into a pile of abandoned sneakers on the floor.

“Come on, coffee sounds like a good idea.” Nathalie placed a hand on Sidney’s shoulder, leading him towards the kitchen as if he didn’t know where it was. The Lemieux’s house had always felt more like home to him than his own house, which explained perfectly why he’d been so hesitant to leave that first time. The first move barely counted; he’d maybe stayed a month in that house overall before he stopped going back. It had taken him three more years to find the house he was living in now, and even then it didn’t possess the same comforting feeling that the Lemieux’s house did. His house was just a lonely shell, whilst this one was lived in and full of light and love.

Nathalie deposited him on the kitchen stool he’d sat at hundreds of times before. Mario dropped down into the seat next to him, and Sidney saw just how tired the older man looked. It was a tiredness that one cup of coffee couldn’t fix. They waited until all three cups of coffee were steaming on the counter in front of them before they hit Sidney with the news.

“I managed to get hold of Taylor last night,” Nathalie announced after sighing happily at the first sip of her coffee, “her flight home was scheduled for tonight anyways, so we’ve just adjusted it so that she lands here instead of Halifax.”

Sidney exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised had been caught in his lungs. By this time tomorrow, he would have his sister in front of him. He knew that she would probably have an explosive reaction, mixing the joy that he was okay with the rage and sadness over what had happened. Taylor would probably punch him and hug him for hours as she alternated between crying and screaming. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Marc and Veronique collected up some of your stuff and put it up in your room. They also left your phone to charge up there,” Mario explained. Sidney nodded at his words. His room was the little apartment that took over the third floor of the house. The apartment had its own kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom; Sidney only tended to use the bedroom as he spent most of his free time downstairs with the Lemieux's. It had long been considered Sidney’s room in the house as it had stopped being the guest apartment after the third year that Sidney had lived there.

“When will I will be allowed to play?” Sidney posed as he wrapped his fingers around his warm cup.

“As soon as your stitches are healed, we’ll talk with the team doctors.” Mario promised. Sidney accepted his words with a nod of the head; he could see the outline of the bandages through the sleeves of his hoodie. He wondered how long it would take for the cuts to heal, his normal cuts would stop bleeding after a day or two, and a thin membrane of scar tissue would begin forming after only a day. Sidney didn’t know if his usual timings would translate to the deeper and wider wounds.

Sidney pondered as the trio slipped into silence as they sipped at their coffees. He wanted to feel like he was no longer sinking in the rough sea that was his depression. Sidney knew there was no point trying to fight the current by trying to swim, it would just leave him exhausted as it had done before. He needed to learn how to float before he could swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidney is free! He is still recovering though, there are going to be uphill and downhills moments but he is going to be surrounded by everyone who loves him. Taylor is going to come along and probably punch him very hard before crying over him. 
> 
> Enjoy, and as usual big thanks for editing out my 'insteads' :)


	18. Chapter 18

Sidney was curled up on one of the sofas in the Lemieux’s living room with a blanket thrown over him, watching the flat-screen TV that filled half of the wall. He was waiting for the game to start and enduring the rambling nonsense of the sports commentators in the meantime. Mario and Nathalie kept shooting him barely disguised concerned looks whenever his name popped up in the conversation on the screen. The Penguins were playing against the Blackhawks, and watching the fans fill up the United Centre on the TV left Sidney feeling a surge of déjà vu. The last time he had to miss a game against the Hawks was when he was recovering from his concussion back in 2011.

Whilst he was being released from hospital, the team were on a charter flight heading out on a road trip Chicago, Montreal, North Carolina, and then down to Tampa Bay. It would mean that Sidney wouldn’t get a chance to see the team for ten days, and it meant ten days without Geno and Flower’s support. He knew that he’d have Mario, Nathalie and Vero around though and despite the reassuring feeling of knowing they would be there, Sidney still clung to the panic that it might not be enough; he could hardly go down to Mario and Nathalie’s room in the middle of the night when his demons got to much for him to handle.

The commentators continued to talk nonsense about the team, debating if they would be able to perform well without their captain especially considering it wasn’t a typical injury that had put him out. Sidney closed his eyes and tried to block out the noise of their voices. They seemed to have conveniently forgotten the Penguins win against the Islanders only a few days previously. Another comment was made about Sidney, one of the commenters offering the suggestion that he may never rejoin the team out on the ice; Mario inhaled sharply at the statement, and Sidney could already imagine the clickbait articles it would create.

“I will you know,” Sidney mumbled into the cushion he was lying against.

“I know. Nothing could keep you away.” Mario chuckled, and Sidney could easily picture the smile that was filling his face.  Sidney hummed in agreement, fighting a wince as the skin on his arm pulled awkwardly as he adjusted his position on the couch. The chatter of the commentators changed topic and finally the sound of the crowd overpowered the voices. Opening his eyes, Sidney focused his attention on the TV as the Penguins appeared on the ice for the start of the first period.

The camera immediately panned to the Penguin players instead of the home team, zooming in on the shoulder of Geno’s jersey. On the left arm above Geno’s own jersey number sat an embroidered orange awareness ribbon with a tiny ‘87’ on the edge. Sidney felt his chest tighten as he saw the same design on every players jersey, not just on the Penguins, but on the Blackhawks as well.

“It’s used to symbolise self-harm awareness,” Nathalie explained with no prompting, leaving Sidney with tears in his eyes.

“We had to approach the idea with Bowman, but he was very accepting and asked to allow the team to use the design for the game. We’ve arranged for a donation to be made to a charity as well.” Mario continued, rising from his seat on the other sofa to move to the sofa that Sidney was lying across. He carefully ran a hand through Sidney’s greasy hair, a comforting touch that sparked more tears.

“Thank you,” Sidney sobbed, shakily wiping away the tears that were falling down his cheeks.

 

The game ended in a 3-1 loss for the Penguins, but despite his disappointment at the loss, Sidney still felt overwhelming loved by his team. The symbol of the orange ribbon was imprinted on his mind as he rose from the sofa and trekked up the stairs to the third floor. The third-floor apartment was just as Sidney remembered. It has been his home for many years, much to the amusement of the team and the gossip of the press. Sidney had long since accepted that the team was going to constantly chirp about him living in Mario’s attic on and off for eight years; mainly on.

The walk upstairs was familiar like he was walking up the stairs in his childhood home. The attic apartment was nearly the same as it had been the last time he’d stayed. The walls were a mix of blue and cream, accentuated with dark wooden floors in the living area and thick plush carpet in the bedroom. Sidney knew from experience that the sofa that filled the living area was delightfully soft, and anyone who sat down on it instantly melted into the cushions. A single door led off the living area into the bedroom. The room was done in similar colours, a large bed sitting in the centre of the space. The bed was not the same one that had been there when he’d first moved in, Sidney had sheepishly asked if he could buy a new one during his third year with the Lemieux’s.

Sidney smiled as he looked around the bedroom. Either Flower or Vero had arranged his belongings and put his clothes away into the drawers and wardrobe. His phone was plugged into the wall, the green led light shining in the dimly lit room.  He hadn’t looked at his phone since Christmas, and his inbox showed that. Dropping down on the bed, Sidney tucked his feet underneath him as he scrolled down the long list of messages until he reached the bottom. The earliest unread message was from the 23rd of December, Jonathan Toews thanking him for checking in and saying he was a bit overwhelmed by Jamie’s press conference. Scrolling upwards, Sidney clicked on every text message that he’d received before New Year’s Eve: there were a mix of random photos sent from teammates current and old, a scattering of Merry Christmas messages, a couple of texts from guys around the league wishing happy new year and saying they’ll win the next game against the Pens. Sidney dutifully clicked on all of the Happy New Year texts, most of them sent before midnight had even struck. His heart was pounding in his chest, the anxious bubble in his stomach bubbling and making him feel sick as he reached the texts from the New Years Day. It was a sudden shift in tone, the happy new years texts stopped and were replaced with an endless steam of messages that left Sidney wanting to cry.

_I hope you know I love you man. Get better._

_Always here if you need someone to talk to._

_Thoughts are with you buddy_

_I fucking hoped it was a sick joke when I heard, couldn’t believe it when saw Lemieux’s conference. Get yourself healthy, take as long as you need too._

There were countless messages that followed the same theme, even Giroux had sent him one. There were some messages where Sidney could tell that the sender hadn’t been able to think of what to say but had wanted to send something regardless; those were the plain ‘get well soon’ ones.

After the messages, Sidney simply deleted all the missed call notifications. His voicemail icon stubbornly remained, where it would probably stay until Sidney got someone to sort it for him. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that whilst he could just about work out how to call his voicemail, he didn’t know how to get rid of the stupid little icon on his notification tab. Opening his inbox once more, Sidney hovered over the compose button with a shaking thumb.

**_Thank you for moving my stuff to Mario’s._ **

He hit send on the message to Flower, knowing that his friend wouldn’t appreciate any comments on the game so soon after the loss. If Sidney wanted to tell him that the Penguins would win the next one, it had to be said the next day, allowing the goalie time to regather his thoughts and process that the loss wasn’t his fault. Sidney’s experience with goalies tended to be that they beat themselves down after a loss for a few hours, before remembering that hockey was a team sport and sometimes the other team is just better.

**_Good powerplay goal, will get the next game. I’m at Mario’s and Nathalie’s house. Miss you._ **

Sidney hesitated over the last two words before taking the leap and hitting send on the message to Geno. He knew that it was the right thing to send when his phone buzzed again not even a minute later.

_Miss you 2. Wanted to stay but Sully + Mario made me get plane._

Sidney rolled his eyes at Geno’s message, easily imagining the argument that must have occurred when Mario and Coach tried to tell him that he was going on the road trip. He felt cared for, and that feeling fought valiantly against the thought in his head that accused him of being a burden.  A smile tickled at the edge of Sidney’s mouth, as his phone buzzed twice in quick succession in his hand; one from Geno, and one from Flower.

_Please call if need –_ Geno.

_No problem. Will call you in the morning and Vero will come round tomorrow afternoon. –_ Flower.

Sidney purposefully plugged his phone back into the charger despite his battery still being nearly full. He normally didn’t care about his phone, often going long periods of time without even looking at the thing. His team typically knew not to bother trying to get hold of him via his phone; they probably wouldn’t get a reply for at least a week if they did, but Sidney wanted his phone near him now. It was his only way of contacting Flower and Geno when they were a couple of states away.

Crawling underneath the familiar duvet, Sidney looked around the room. The silence was deafening, a vast difference from his nights in the hospital. In the hospital there was always noise: people walking past his room, beeps and alarms echoing from other rooms on the wards, the chatter from the nurse’s station out in the corridor, the whoosh of the air conditioning, the constant sound of someone else’s breathing.

The room was too dark too, vastly different from the ever-present light that had chased away shadows in the hospital room. Even when the lights were turned off in the hospital room, there were still the lights from monitors and what spilled in from the little glass window on the door. On the third floor of the Lemieux’s house, the only light came from the little green circle on his phone.

Burying his head into the pillow, Sidney shuffled as he tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in. He rolled onto his front; his arms pulled up underneath his chest. The bandages wrapped around his arms still felt bizarre and the feeling was at its worst when he tried to fall asleep. Every movement made him feel like he was catching and twisting the material. It reminded him of wearing a long-sleeved shirt to sleep, something he typically disliked; the fabric always bunched, and twisted around whenever you moved, leaving him feeling like he was wearing a pretzel.

 

Sidney didn’t know when he fell asleep, the room was still dark when he opened his eyes, but it was no longer silent. He could just make out the outline of someone across the room. The bed dipped behind him, and a whoosh of cold air hit his back as the duvet was lifted. A slender arm wrapped around his stomach, and hair tickled at the back of his neck whilst the faint smell of perfume filled the space between them. Sidney covered the small hand on his stomach with his own, squeezing it gently to signal he was awake.

“It’s going to sound so selfish, but am I a bad sister?”  Taylor’s voice sounded broken as she whispered the words into the middle of Sidney’s back.

“Tay, you are the most amazing sister ever.” Sidney whispered into the darkness. Taylor tightened the grip around his stomach, curling herself around him like a big spoon.

“I’m so sorry I never knew. I wish I could have helped.” The back of his shirt clung to his skin as Taylor’s tears dampened the fabric.

“I didn’t want people to know, it was my secret.” Sidney reassured. He knew his words weren’t the correct ones, but his tired brain couldn’t bring find the ones that were right to say.

“Secrets kill,” Taylor mumbled. Sidney remembered that his sister had been on a plane for nine hours, not counting the hours spent at the airport and the time difference. She was exhausted, and he could feel her breathing slowing as the warm comfort of the bed lulled her into sleep. He didn’t know if she heard his next sentence, the words whispered into the darkness.

“Mine nearly did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still just want to smoosh Sidney and comfort him. Taylor is back though for a short interlude, it will be fun to see what her reaction is to poor Sid. I promise it will be 100% better than his parents reaction.
> 
> Sid going back to the Lemieux's was always going to be the plan for this story, just because it always tickles me just how long he lived with them for. I mean Wikipedia says he was only there for 5 years, (only 5 ><) and then theirs articles published that suggest he was still living with them in 2013, making it like 8 years of living with them. But honestly that to me just says how beautiful their friendship must be.


	19. Chapter 19

Sidney awoke feeling like he’d been shoved in a furnace. He was sweating and the shoulder of his shirt was damp with drool that wasn’t his own. Taylor’s hair was running wild, splayed out everywhere, but it felt like most of it was covering his face. He gently pushed a pillow beneath his sister’s head, allowing him to shift away and roll towards the edge of the bed. The sunlight from outside was peeking through the small gap in the curtain, leaving a line of light that cut across the middle of the room. Sidney carefully tiptoed over to the window, remembering exactly where all the creaky spots were on the floor. Pulling the curtains closed, he made sure that the light had stopped creeping in before sneaking from the room.

The living room on the third floor was a different story; the room was flooded with sunlight with the curtains thrown open wide. Sidney blinked against the brightness, chasing spots from his vision. He tried to be as quiet as possible as he tapped around the sofa towards the little kitchenette hidden away in an alcove. He knew what jetlag was like, and he knew that coffee would be Taylors only saving grace when consciousness once again claimed her.

The kitchenette was stocked with everything he would need: the cupboards held a large bag of coffee beans, a loaf of bread and several jars of his favourite brand of jelly and peanut butter. The little fridge hidden in a cupboard under the kitchen counter housed a pint of milk, and a dozen plastic containers filled with leftovers. He didn’t bother with anything in the fridge; he checked that the small coffee machine was filled with beans before flicking the switch. The machine immediately whirled to life, the noise echoing around the little alcove. Sidney worried that the noise made by the beans being ground down would be too loud, before remembering that Taylor could probably sleep through anything even without jetlag.

The smell of the coffee was intoxicating, chasing away any remaining sleepy cobwebs from his mind. As tempting as it was, there was one thing that Sidney wanted more than coffee, and that was a shower. He felt grimy, and he probably smelt just as repulsive. His hair was as greasy as if he’d dunked his head in a bucket of gel. There was nothing in the world that Sidney wanted more than to stand underneath the hot spray of a shower for at least an hour. He left the coffee machine brewing, tiptoeing back through the bedroom into his bathroom. Panic and awareness pulsed through his chest, as he remembered the last time he’d been in a bathroom alone. Flashes of his arms soaked in blood, dripping like a waterfall onto the floor, had Sidney clutching at the edge of the sink for balance. His reflection in the bathroom mirror was as horrible as he imagined; his hair greasy, his skin pale and oily, and a pitiful growth of facial hair. Even when he was closer to thirty than twenty-five, he still struggled to grow any form of a beard.

It wasn’t the playoffs, and the cruddy excuse of a beard had no reason to be on his face. Sidney groaned as he saw the space where a razor and shaving cream normally sat, now stood empty. Of course the others would think to remove his shaving stuff from him. But how could they know that even in the Lemieux’s house he had blades scattered around the third-floor suite? It had been his home for eight years in Pittsburgh before he finally moved out properly, but even after he moved into his own house a few streets away he often stayed the night. The third-floor suite was still his room in the house, just like Lauren and Stephanie’s rooms were still theirs even when they were away at college.  

Sidney pushed himself away from the sink, stripping out of his clothes as he turned the shower on full blast. He pondered just how many of the old blades Flower and Vero found when they were bringing his stuff over; off the top of his head, Sidney could remember five places where a blade had once been hidden. There had been a blade hidden between two World War One books on the shelf, another hidden in a ring box in his bedside table, another hidden underneath a cutlery tray in the kitchenette, and two blades sat in a plastic bag that Sidney had trapped underneath the toilet tank lid. Those two blades had been his favourite to use, but back when Flower had first found out, he came over to Mario’s and tore the place apart searching for his blades. Sidney got better at hiding them, and Flower changed his tactics.

Underneath the hot spray of the shower, Sidney let the water cascade down his back, washing away the layers of filth that had accumulated. Staring at the white he was surprised that the water was running clear. He’d felt so dirty that he had expected the water to reflect that. Carefully he unravelled his bandages, exposing his healing wounds to the steamy air. He clutched his unwrapped arms against his chest as he spun on the spot and let the water pound down on his front. The shower washed away areas of dried blood, and left Sidney to stare at the deep grooves that his body was still struggling to knit closed. A shiny purple line was already beginning to show at the start of one of the cuts, on the area where the blade hadn’t been pressed as deeply. Sidney stroked at the start of the scar, trying to imagine what the rest of the cuts would look like when they were fully healed over. How long would it take them to fade into the puckered white lines that marred his thigh and hip.

Sidney had fought through the burning itch as soap suds dropped into the cuts when he worked his way through the process of washing his hair and his body. It was a pain that he’d grown used to; it didn’t particularly hurt; it simply annoyed him. It was also something that he was willing to put up with when the sweet scent of the banana shower gel filled the glass stall. He turned the temperature up to its hottest setting, standing under the blistering heat for a minute before finally turning off the water. Droplets fell from his hair into his eyes as he pushed the shower door open. He grabbed the blue towel from the rack, wrapping it around his scarred hips. He had smartly grabbed a fresh pair of underwear before he went into the bathroom, and Sidney quickly pulled those up his legs. The rest of his clothes were still in the wardrobe and drawers in the other room, meaning he would have to sneak back into the room before he could finish getting dressed.

Even with his underwear on, Sidney kept the towel wrapped around his waist as he slowly opened the bathroom door. The bedside table light was on, and Taylor was sat up in the big double bed; her hair was pulled back into a scruffy ponytail, and the remnants of her make-up left her looking like a panda. Sidney instinctively tightened his grip on his towel, desperately scanning the room in search for something he could throw on to cover his skin.

Taylors bottom lip quivered as she began to cry, her eyes focused on his arms. Sidney had left the bandages on the floor of the shower, allowing the wounds to breathe. Sidney stood frozen as Taylor pushed the duvet off and crawled to the edge of the bed. Her remaining mascara had left black spiderweb lines down her cheeks and Sidney tried not to flinch away from the touch when she gently held his hands, stretching his arms out towards her. Her eyes traced the lines of the cuts, the frown creasing her forehead told Sidney she was full of questions.

“How long have you been doing it?” She broke the silence, her words coming out broken between her sobs.

Sidney shrugged his shoulders, staring over the top of Taylor’s head instead of focusing on her. If he looked at her face, he would probably join her in the tears. “I started when I was seventeen.”

Taylor’s cry caught in her throat with a choked noise that left Sidney wanting to fade away into nothing. She let go of his hands, her fingers trailing up his forearms as she searched for old marks that weren’t there.

“Can I see the others?” Sidney wanted to reach down and tighten his grip on his towel. The only person who had ever seen the full state of his problem was Flower; not even the doctors and trainers on the team had seen. Sidney would wear knee length compression shorts whenever he had to visit the trainer; whenever he had an issue with his thighs or hips, he had been stubborn and refused to let the doctor examine him properly.

He nodded slowly, untucking his towel from around his waist. The towel slipped to the floor leaving him stood wearing nothing but his boxers. His skin was wrecked; his right thigh a maze of crossing lines, and scars in a rainbow of colours. Some were white with age, whilst others were purple and red, barely healed. The top of his thigh, just before the line of his boxers held some of thickest cuts.  Before he’d brought the blade down on his arm, Sidney hadn’t thought he would ever end up with a scar thicker than a centimetre wide.

Sidney let his arms fall, his hands resting in front of his crotch. He was used to locker-room etiquette, but it felt bizarre to be dressed in just his underwear next to his sister. He allowed Taylor to see his scarred skin for a minute before he grabbed at his towel, clutching it around him.

“Oh Squid.” Taylor sighed, another black streak rolling down to stain at her cheek. “Has anyone else seen these?”

“Flower.” Sidney whispered, wrapping the towel around his shoulders like a comfort blanket.

A sniffle escaped from Taylor as she wiped at her teary eyes. “Promise me. Promise me that you will get help.” Sidney felt his heart throb as he watched his sister struggle to calm down. He knew that he could offer nothing to help, and his words were only words. Words couldn’t fix anything.

 

* * *

 

Sidney dressed in comfy pyjama bottoms and an old hoodie that he had stolen from Kris Letang years ago. The sleeves of his hoodie were pushed up to his elbow exposing his stitches as he walked down into the kitchen. Nathalie was stood flipping pancakes at the stove clothed in a ratty dressing gown that Sidney remembered from his first few years at the Lemieux’s and Mario was flipping through papers that filled the entirety of the kitchen island’s counter. Sidney slowly creeped towards Mario, frowning as he saw his own name splashed across one of the papers. Stepping closer, he carefully extracted one from the mess; it was a printout of an article and glancing around Sidney could see that so were the rest. There had to be over a hundred pieces of paper all over the counter, all of them different.  

Sidney put the paper back down, giving up reading after the third sentence. He didn’t need to read the rest to know that the writer of the article was judging him and branding him an attention seeker just like his own father had. He had to be grateful that his father had at least refused to talk to the media. “We’re trying to get a handle of it, but honestly they’re writing quicker than we can keep up.” Mario sighed, setting down the paper he was reading into a neat little pile. Looking closer, Sidney realised that amongst the chaotic spread there were two separate piles, one on either side of Mario.

Sidney nodded in response, burying his hands into the front pocket of the hoodie. Nathalie stepped away from the hob after scraping the pancake onto a plate. She walked over to them, her hand resting on Sidney’s back exactly where Letang was printed in big white letters.  “Would you like me to wrap your arms for you Sid?”

Sidney melted into the motherly tone that soaked through Nathalie’s voice. He loved that about her, she always treated him like he was another one of her own children. She had brought him soup whenever he got the flu, she pressed a cold flannel against his head whenever he was sick, and she’d been there blending food for him when he broke his jaw.  Sidney pulled out the two rolled up bandages that he’d been hiding in the hoodie pocket, “Please.”

 “Come on sit down, we’ll wrap these up,” Sidney sat down on a stall opposite Mario, his arms held out in front of him. Nathalie wrapped his arms neatly as if she’d been doing it all her life. The ends of the bandages were taped closed with the small roll of medical tape that Sidney had pulled from his pocket with the bandages. As the last arm was taped off, Nathalie ran a hand affectionately through Sidney’s short hair before pecking him on the top of his head. Sidney’s sighed at the touch, his shoulders sagging and his eyes flickering closed. He still had family, even if his mother and father weren’t part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It lives!
> 
> Highlights is still alive, as is Shadows and Mid-Tones. I promise. I've just been focusing on writing my happy Sid/Geno which I am going to shamelessly plug here - go read 'Oh Sid'


	20. Chapter 20

Taylor was only able to stay in town for one day before she had to return to college. Her holiday to Europe had been schedule from Boxing Day all the way up until the very end of her winter break, and Sidney had refused to be responsible for her missing her first lessons back.  College was an experience that Sidney wished he had been able to have, but he had long ago rationalised that College was something that he could come back to, whereas hockey was always going to have an expiry date. He could have had a college education at 22, or he could have had a Stanley Cup ring; Sidney knew which one he’d wanted more.

Sidney was beginning to look more like himself as hugged his little sister tightly at the Lemieux’s front door, squeezing her into his chest, not wanting to let her go. Had it been any other time he would have been the one to take her to the airport to catch her flight, but this time it was Nathalie driving her. The media were still desperate to get the gossip and write the story on Sidney so it was agreed that they would do as little as possible to fuel the media’s fire.

He was once more looking vaguely human as the door closed behind Nathalie and Taylor; they had allowed him the use of an electric razor when Vero had come to join them the day before. She had brandished the box, and Sidney could only assume by the lack of a seal that the razor had been checked to make sure that it couldn’t be used to inflict damage. Sidney didn’t know how to feel about that, it was like his emotions mixed together a loving feeling with a feeling that his friends could no longer trust him. He knew it was just his mind trying to twist his thoughts, but Sidney still struggled to ignore it. He knew that his friends were worried about him, and although they were looking out for him, they weren’t coddling him. He had accepted the electric razor happily, despite the niggling thought that his friends were no longer able to trust him with sharp objects. He had taken the stairs two at a time in his haste and had nearly fallen down them upon his return. The feeling of being freshly shaved was so much better than the shower he’d had that morning.

 

Mario was working in his study, the door left open in silent offering in case Sidney wanted to join him in there later rather than be left to his own devices. Vero had also reminded Sidney that she was only a phone call and a short drive away the day before, and Nathalie had left with Taylor with a soft comment that she would only be an hour or so. Sidney was thankful for every one of them, knowing that all he needed to do was call and someone would be there. He waved through the window as Nathalie and Taylor drove down the drive, watching as they pulled out onto the main road.

Despite Mario being only down the hall, Sidney felt overwhelming alone. The team were on a week-long road trip, and it meant that neither Geno nor Flower would be able to go with him to his first therapy session. Sidney knew that no one would be allowed to join him in the room, but he wanted to have someone with him afterwards.

He knew Vero, and Tanger’s wife, Catherine, would agree to go with him, and Mario and Nathalie would happily sit in the waiting room for him. Theoretically he had a range of people he could ask to join him, but Sidney couldn’t help but feel awkward at the thought of asking one of them.

His first therapy session was scheduled for two days’ time, directly in the middle of the Penguins road trip when the team would be en-route from Montreal to North Carolina. Sidney felt anxious every time he thought about the upcoming appointment. He was dreading having someone drag out all his dirty laundry and question every action he’d ever done. He wondered if Dr McGraw would make him explain every single emotion that had ran through his head as he picked up the blade to bring it down on his skin. Sidney didn’t even know if he had the words to describe some of those emotions.

Sidney barely lasted five minutes by himself, his thoughts running a mile a minute around his head. He pushed himself up from his seat on the living room couch where he had dumped himself after Taylor had left, and slowly tread barefoot down the hallway to Mario’s home office. The door was open wide instead of its usual position of firmly closed. Sidney understood why Mario used to close the door to them all, it was hard to work on important business matters in a house filled with four screaming kids and him. The open door exposed the large bookcases that filled the back wall, and the large desk that stood as a centrepiece to the room. Mario sat hunched over it, reading glasses pushed to the top of his head as he signed papers that Sidney didn’t want to ask about. He played hockey; he neither understood nor cared about all the behind the scenes stuff as much as people presumed.

Knocking on the door to make his presence known, Sidney clutched the cuffs of his hoodie when Mario looked up at him. “Can I come in?”

“Of course, Sid. I’m just reading some paperwork about the upcoming NHL Expansion,” Mario explained, pushing the papers to the side. His desk was a jumble of documents and opened envelopes all placed in an organised chaotic way. Sidney would only presume that whilst it looked like a mess to him, it was probably carefully organised from Mario’s perspective.

“Anything interesting?” Sidney posed, settling on the small leather sofa that was tucked into the corner of the office. The sofa was soft and squishy in a way the way that leather is when it has been worn down over time. Sidney smiled in response to the raised eyebrow that Mario shot at him. He knew that Mario could see through his polite interest and could guess the questions in Sidney’s mind about the expansion. The NHL hadn’t had an expansion team since the 2000’s and it was already clear that the next few years would see a drastic change in the structure of the league.

“They’re currently trying to decide on how many players each team can protect. I think they’re going to go with each team can protect seven forwards, three defenseman and one goaltender, or a team can protect any eight players and one goaltender.” Mario explained, glancing down to read off the paper in front of him.

Sidney frowned and nodded, his next question already poised on his tongue, “Who would we protect?”

“You know I can’t discuss that. Besides we won’t be deciding for over a year,” Mario smiled, like a father telling their son that he had to wait till after dinner for dessert. Sidney fought a smile as he pouted childishly in response, his demeanour only breaking when Mario threw a pen at him. Honking in laughter, Sidney chucked the pen straight back.

* * *

 

Sidney could barely pay attention to the game playing on the TV. Players for the Penguins and the Canadiens whizzed by on the ice, but they were nothing more than a blaze of colour. Sidney was distracted by thoughts of the next day. It would be the first time he left the house since he’d returned from the hospital and it would be his first time going out since New Year’s. He knew that Mario and Nathalie had noticed his distraction, but Sidney had decided that there was no point building up a façade nowadays. What was the point of pretending that everything was alright when the entire world now knew the truth that it wasn’t? Sidney hadn’t realised how much effort he’d been putting into trying to hide the cracks in the mask until he finally just accepted the truth and let it shatter, revealing the true emotion’s he’d been hiding underneath.

Despite his distraction, he still smiled when he saw Geno’s name pop up along the bottom of the screen announcing his assist on the Penguin’s first goal of the game. Geno and Flower had been texting him whenever they could, and Tanger and Kuni were making sure to text him at least twice a day. Some of the other guys would send him a text most mornings or evenings, and Sidney had to remind himself to reply to every single one.

It was during the third as they were watching the replay of Lovejoy’s Interference penalty when Sidney finally forced himself to speak. He wrung his hands together in his lap, trying to fight off the clamminess that was building in his chest as he stuttered over his question, “Nathalie? Are you busy tomorrow?”

Nathalie smiled softly over at him from where she was curled up on the opposite couch, her legs tucked underneath her, and her hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. “I’m free all day.”

“Would... could you drive me to my doctor’s appointment?” Sidney stammered. He knew he should have opened the question up to Mario as well, but he knew that his schedule was crazy at the best of times. He didn’t want to impose and mess up his already hectic day.

“Of course I can Sid,” Sidney smiled his gratitude at Nathalie, as the game on the screen once again started up. The game finished ten minutes later, with the Penguins getting an empty netter in the last ten seconds, a much-needed win after the loss against Chicago. Even sat on a couch in Pittsburgh, Sidney could sense the glee that would be filling the Canadien’s visitor locker room.

* * *

 

Insomnia was added to the list of other issues present in Sidney’s mind that night. Sleep was not his friend, leaving him spending hour upon hour tossing and turning in his hunt to get comfortable. Whenever he thought he had found a comfortable position, the demons and thoughts in his head seemed to scream at him, keeping him from falling into dreamland. It was just gone seven when Sidney finally gave up and pushed himself from the confines of his covers. The sheets felt like ropes tying him down, trapping him in their grips. Sidney fell on the floor when he finally escaped, wincing at the sound he made as he his knee hit the ground. The bedrooms on the second floor were currently unoccupied with all the Lemieux’s children away at college, but it was still engrained into him that noise was often the starting point of inevitable trouble.

Sidney slowly pushed himself up from the floor, despite his sudden urge just to stay down there and pretend that the events of the day weren’t going to happen. His session was booked in as the first of the day, in hopes to avoid as much recognition as possible. Sidney knew that being seen was inevitable, but he appreciated Dr McGraw’s attempts. He had tried to find answers on google as to what would be asked and talked about during the one-hour slot but his search had proved fruitless, leaving him with no answers but more questions.

His fear of the unknown and inevitable hung like a storm-cloud over him as he pulled a clean hoodie over his head. The hoodie was different to the ones he had been wearing; it was black and plain rather than one of the team’s official hoodies. Sidney knew from his years of PR training that he would be much more recognisable when he was wearing the team logo, and that it would bring him unwanted attention if the media saw him in a 71 or a 58.

The slowly healing skin on his arms pulled at the movement as he dressed, and the feel of the fabric on his cuts felt bizarre. Sidney had left his arms unbandaged that night, after deciding that the skin had knitted together enough to no longer warrant the bulky bandage. Without the bandage, he was now able to scratch at the healing itchy scabs. He reminded himself not to scratch at them in front of people, not wanting to receive a telling off as the hospital staff had made a point of saying that picking scabs could be considered a form of self-injury.

Sidney scrolled through the new messages on his phone as he allowed himself a little scratch at the healing wounds, instantly relieving the burning itch of the scabs.. He didn’t know what time his teammates flight to North Carolina was, but he figure it must have been an early one from the bundle of texts he received in the early hours of the morning.

**Kuni:**

> Morning Sid.

**Phil The Dog:**

> Ignore whatever bullshit Horny just sent.

**Horny:**

> Phil wants hot dogs, everyone else said no.

**Tanger:**

> Best of luck today buddy.

**Flower:**

> Call me as soon as you’re out of session. Sorry I couldn’t be there with you today.

**Geno:**

> **The rookies missing you, wish I could be there with you. I Miss you 2.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am alive.... I think. Alive but mildly sunburnt, lets go with that one today.
> 
> But yes Sidney is about to begin his long recovery process, and I am going to make it as realistic as possible. He is not going to have a quick fix. That boy is a fragile little flower who is not going to simply get better.


	21. Chapter 21

Sidney had always envisioned a psychiatrist’s office to be clean and sterile, with a monochrome colour scheme and a doctor staring down on you as you lay across a leather couch. The waiting room at Dr McGraw’s practice was anything but. The walls were lined with a dozen canvases, each one an assortment of splashed paints that captured Sidney’s attention as he perched on one of the small blue sofas. The painting opposite him was a blend of pink, orange and yellow splashes and splatters that made Sidney miss the peaceful sunsets by the lake at his home in Halifax. He wished that he was back there so he could hide away, and not have to think about the small crowd of reporters that were still camped outside his house and waiting for him to show up at the arena.

Being the first appointment of the day meant that Sidney was the only one in the waiting room, and he didn’t have to wait long for the door to the consulting room to open and the rainbow haze that was Dr McGraw came to greet him. Sidney rose to his feet, offering his hand forwards in greeting. He watched her smiling eyes flick down the cuff of his hoodie where it was riding up his wrist before she gently accepted the handshake. “It’s good to see you again Sidney, are you on your own?”

“Nathalie offered to stay, but I didn’t want to make her wait around for an hour,” Sidney explained, following her as she indicated for him to step into the consulting room. Her room was as colourful as the waiting room and was just as bright and vibrant as she was. The walls were the colour of grass and furniture was a mixture of mustard fabrics and dark wood. Sidney waited for Dr McGraw to sit down on a brown leather chair before he settled onto the yellow sofa opposite. They sat in a quiet stand-off, both waiting for the other to break the initial silence. Sidney sighed, refusing to meet the doctor’s eyes he stared at her bright hair. Lavender when they first met, Dr McGraw’s hair had been re-dyed and was now Cadbury purple tipped with midnight blue ends.

“I don’t know what I’m meant to say,” Sidney admitted quietly, as his gaze slipped from the bright hair to the notebook perched on the arm of the doctor’s chair. He felt like he was back in the locker room being judged by a hundred reporters who all wanted to critique him on how he had played a game.

“How about we start with _how you are today_?” Dr McGraw probed as she twirled a pen in her hand. It was a question Sidney had been expecting, but he still didn’t know how he was meant to answer. He didn’t know how he had been feeling for the past decade, despite it being a question that he had been asked countless times over the year. He had been asked how he felt about how he played, how he felt after a rough game or a good game, but none of the people asking those questions had genuinely cared about his feelings.

“I feel like I’m in a fish tank and everyone is pressed against the glass watching me.” Sidney paused, biting the bottom of his lip. He felt like he had said too much by saying how he truly felt; he had spent so much time growing up in the media that the idea of being in a fish tank felt like the best way to describe it. From the child star who had reporters saying he was going to be the next Wayne Gretzky, to the youngest captain in the NHL, people had been watching him with wide eyes for so long.

The sound of pen scratching across paper filled the room as silence once more fell between them, pinching at Sidney’s nerves. It wasn’t a comfortable silence like the ones that Sidney was used to with his teammates, but it wasn’t quite the same unpleasant silence that often occurred when Sidney was talking with his parents.

“You’re not going to ask how that makes me feel?”  Sidney asked after watching Dr McGraw writing for a few moments more. The doctor glanced up from her notebook, offering a small genuine smile that settled at the nerves Sidney didn’t realise had been creeping up inside of him. His anxieties about being judged soothed at her tinkling voice as she spoke.

“I’m not going to ask how you feel. No one can understand what you’re feeling inside. We can relate to it, but we can never fully comprehend someone else’s emotions,” Dr McGraw explained as she settled her pen down onto the paper; her illegible notes were impossible to read upside down.

Sidney fidgeted with a tiny strand of skin on his nailbed as he contemplated what he wanted to say. He had always had an irrational fear of counselling, but now he was sat in a psychiatrist’s office all he wanted was for her to tell him why he felt this way. He frowned as he stopped pulling at the skin around his nail and curled his fingers around the cuffs of his hoodie, “So no one will ever understand why I feel like this?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I am not concerned about what others understand Sidney. I want to reach a point where you can understand why you do this.” Dr McGraw’s smile was small, but encouraging when Sidney finally looked up from his hands. The smile was what he needed to see and made him comfortable enough to say the words that pained him to admit.

“It helped me get through the day.” The pen started scratching quick notes on the paper once more, but this time the sound didn’t bother him as much as it had before. “So much of my life is about control, and I’m not the one in control. Everything I do, everything I eat, everything I say is controlled or regulated by others. This was the one thing that I had control over.” Sidney wished the truth would release a weight on his chest, but it did nothing to alleviate the metaphorical chains that hung from his neck. His secrets still weighed him down, even though the world now knew them.

“But who was really in control, you or the blade?”

* * *

 

Sidney felt exhausted, like he had just completed the most gruelling workout of his life when the clock finally hit the hour mark. He felt emotional as he left the consulting room with a departing handshake from Dr McGraw. During the remaining time in their session they had talked about elements of his past, interspersing it with pleasant discussions about his interests and his friends. The doctor had explained that she didn’t want to overwhelm him by talking about nothing but his troubles for an hour, and Sidney felt like he wouldn’t have been able to cope if he had been subjected to talking about his issues for an hour straight with no interruption.

They hadn’t touched on everything; they hadn’t even begun to discuss the huge shitstorm that was his relationship with his father. Sidney felt like his shoulders were heavy with truths and secrets fighting each other for dominance. The front pocket of his hoody felt just as heavy as his shoulders filled with the prescription bottle of anti-depressants like a lead weight trying to pull him down. Dr McGraw had asked him to try them to see if it would help him with the urges to pull out a blade. He was sceptical that a small green and yellow tablet would be able to stop him imagining the pull of metal across skin, but he was willing to try.

Sidney kept his head down, watching the floor as the door to the doctor’s office closed leaving him stood in the colourful waiting room. He was so focused on the floor that he failed to notice the person walking towards him until a pair of feet stood in front of him. Slowly Sidney looked up, his heart stopping in his chest when he saw Geno’s soft eyes looking down at him. Sidney rushed forwards, wrapping his arms tightly around the Russian man’s waist, and burying his head into the large chest. Strong arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tighter and pulling him closer. “What are you doing here?” Sidney cried into Geno’s chest; he was unable to stop the tears that fell. He felt so unsteady that finding Geno waiting for him had just tipped him over the emotional edge.

“Flew in this morning, didn’t want you to go through this alone.” Geno stroked a hand through Sidney’s hair, his fingers sliding through the silky strands. Sidney hiccupped as he giggled softly through his tears.

They eventually broke their embrace, the only contact between them being their entwined hands. Geno’s car was parked only a few steps away from the doctor’s office front door and Sidney couldn’t fight the urge to glance around as soon as he stepped from the entrance, checking no one was watching and waiting for his exit. Geno was explaining in his cheery voice that he had arranged with Nathalie and Mario to fly over and meet Sidney at the end of the appointment, accepting the anxious glances that Sidney shot up and down the street as they walked the few steps to the car.

Sidney breathed out slowly as he dropped down into the low passenger seat of Geno’s sportscar, smiling to himself as he watched the man squeeze himself into the driver seat. “Yeh, Yeh, laugh at me, but I beat you to rink in morning.”

“That’s because you drive like a crazy person.”

“And you drive like old man,” Geno teased, pushing the car into reverse and stepping on the gas pedal. Sidney instinctively clutched at the base of his seat, as Geno chuckled to himself for a moment before his expression turned sombre and serious. “How did it go?”

“She gave me some meds, and we talked about some stuff.” Sidney admitted as he watched the Pittsburgh streets out the window. The people walking had no clue who was driving past them, and Sidney pondered on the word’s Dr McGraw had said to him. Did it really matter if they judged him?

“What else she say?” Geno enquired, reaching across the gearbox to place a comforting hand over Sidney’s knee. The hand covered his kneecap and Sidney covered Geno’s hand with his own; he couldn’t help but smile down at the size difference between their two hands.

Sidney’s honking laughter filled the car as he remembered Dr McGraw’s parting words for him, “She told me to screw my diet and go eat something sugary.” Geno matched his laugh, the pair of them cackling like hyenas as they drove down the streets of their city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So busy couple of months, firstly gone through another change in jobs - this one being a lot more relaxed environment, and much closer to home. It may have been only two days but fucking loving it so far!
> 
> Secondly, hockey practise has gone up to three nights a week and its catching up with little old me! Starting to feel better now that the 5:30 alarms are no longer, but it is a slow process.
> 
> I am still alive, and all my stories are still in progress. I have little one-shots in the pipeline as well, brought to you by comments that I hear or little snarks made in group chats. I have some right corkers from the hockey lads that I need to share with you guys, (they are brilliant and so much more quick-witted than me)


End file.
